Law-Abiding Citizen
by flyaway111
Summary: This time, I didn't pull away when he grabbed my hand. "I know you feel like you have to hide who you are to be strong, but you don't. It's a cold world when you have to deal with it alone. But don't worry; I'm here for you and I'm not going anywhere." A Slow-Build Imprint Story. Paul/OFC. Temporary Hiatus.
1. An Identity Crisis in the Car

**Author's Note:** _Here it is: the long-awaited posting of Law-Abiding Citizen, something that both you and I have been waiting forever to post! I'm very proud of this fic – even more proud than I was of TCM, if that's even possible. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it._

 _ **Rating subject to change.**_

 _ **Disclaimer**_ _: I do not own Twilight. If I did, the focus would have been on the werewolves, Bella wouldn't be a main character, and I would have expanded more on imprinting – A LOT MORE._

 _ **IMPORTANT WARNING:**_ _This story deals with sensitive topics that are much more emotional than those in my other stories. Warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter to let the reader know what sensitive topics will be implied/talked about._

* * *

Chapter 1:

" _Cinderella never asked for a prince. She asked for a night off and a dress." – Kiera Cass_

Deep down, I believe that every single person on the earth – at some point in their life, no matter the age, gender, race, or religion – reaches a moment where they are forced to look back on all of their past actions and realize that there is nothing left for them to think except, "Boy did I really screw up this time."

On the dimly lit highway that led to our new home in what was obviously the middle of nowhere, I realized that 'screwing up' wasn't entirely accurate in covering the entirety of the deep shithole that I had unintentionally dug myself into over the past few months.

I know what you're thinking. "Gee, Audrey, life really isn't so bad when you think about it! There are so many things to look forward to in life! I mean, you have Broadway musicals, fantastic Italian food, butterflies, bonfires, hot chocolate and fireplaces, Christmas and hot celebrities – all of these things are just a few of the many experiences that make life wonderful! And if things are truly bad now, you know that they can always get better. It's always darkest before the dawn!"

Do you know what I say to that?

It's bullshit.

Tugging thoughtfully on the brass key dangling on the chain around my neck, distractedly attempting to find the correct turnoff in such a dimly lit place, I wondered what I had to do in life for fate to so harshly turn up its middle finger at me. Because that had to be what was happening; I honestly couldn't think of a better explanation as to why my life went from great to awful in a matter of days. But maybe part of it was my fault; after all, the decisions that I made were my own. My career was something that I had chosen for myself and, as always, no choice could come without consequences.

As the headlights of the truck lit up a rather worn sign reading, "Welcome to Forks!" I had to force myself to resist the overly strong urge to make an illegal U-Turn in the middle of the highway and head straight back to the life that I had unwillingly abandoned, consequences be damned. The churning in my stomach was too hard to ignore, an endless pain that kept reminding me of my mistakes and that I definitely couldn't go back, not if I wanted to risk yet another disaster happening to the two people I cared about most in the world. I did my best to keep my mind off of the annoying itch in the back of my skull, pointedly keeping my gaze away from the glare that I could feel burning a hole in the side of my head.

Reaching blindly in between the seats to the drink-holder, I pulled out my thermos and sipped at the cold coffee, frowning as the clock on the dashboard clicked to 1:00 AM. I struggled to stifle a yawn. All I wanted at that moment was to crawl into a warm bed and get some well-needed shuteye, but it was beginning to seem as though sleep of any kind was nothing but a distant fantasy. I didn't complain, though – I may have done a little griping about how my life turned on its head, but I absolutely _refused_ to complain. After all, my situation was no one's fault but my own.

Plus, the seventeen-year-old teenager reclining lazily in the passenger seat with his feet up on the dashboard, glaring daggers at the world, did enough complaining to last both of us a lifetime.

As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, Isaac gave a heaving and completely unnecessary over-exaggerated sigh, and slunk down further in his seat, playing with a stray piece of leather that threatened to come loose from the upholstery.

"I already know what you're thinking and I am _so_ not in the mood, so please don't say it," I warned, not even bothering to spare a glance in his direction. He was in one of those moods that came with being a teenager – when he would pick a fight with anything that moved – so it was best to put any of his sarcastic comments to rest before they even exited his mouth. "For the love of God, don't say it."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he replied innocently.

Innocent, my ass.

A retort was on the tip of my tongue but I held it back, chewing on my lip as the truck rolled to a halt at a stop sign. A slight drizzle fell from the sky, covering the windows in little drops as my eyes flickered over to him and then back to the road; it felt as though the sky could tell what mood I was in at that particular moment – gloomy, depressed, and frustrated.

His sudden change of tone surprised me when he spoke again, sounding both pained and emotionally drained. His voice was soft, as though he were only speaking to himself. "I can't believe that this actually happened to us."

The corners of my lips turned downward into a frown. "You never think that something like this will happen until it does. The kind of thing that you think happens only in TV shows or bad cop movies," I replied. "One in a million chance, kind of thing."

A low mumble and a yawn came from the backseat, and Isaac and I fell silent. I glanced in the rearview mirror – Lucas was still fast asleep, as he had been for the past four hours. The silence continued for several miles, neither of us wanting to break the quiet and put a bit of tense conversation into the air, lest we risk waking up the sleeping child in the backseat. Finally, after driving around aimlessly through our search for our destination and subsequently coming up empty, I sighed and pulled over to the side of the road.

My phone rang twice before being picked up, the voice on the other end of the line sounding amused. "You're late," the voice accused immediately.

"We're lost," I blandly responded, glancing over to the open map that rested in Isaac's lap. "It isn't my fault that this stupid place has to be in the middle of nowhere; God knows I'm not going to be able to find anything in this damn town."

"Do you know where you are right now?" the voice questioned. "Any defining markers or street names that stick out to you?"

I looked around, barely able to see a few feet in front of me with the darkness and fog. "Well there are some trees," I sarcastically replied, pushing a bit of hair back from my face. "And there's a streetlight a little further down the road. Honestly, Mona, if we were in a place that was a little more urban then I would be able to use my phone to find exactly where I needed to go, but I was lucky that I even got enough of a signal to call you."

There was a harsh huff of frustration on the other end of the line, and I knew that I had struck a nerve. The location of our new home had been a sore spot for everyone the last few days. "Just keep going down the highway until you reach a street sign labeled 'Mosley Lane.' That's where you have to turn; there's a dirt path that will lead you straight through the trees and all the way to the house."

I pursed my lips and pulled out onto the highway once more. Driving down the road at what could surely have gotten me an expensive ticket if I was caught, I told her, "Okay, whatever. I'll keep going down the road and see if I can find it – keep your phone on, though. You know I'm terrible with directions."

The phone let out a single beep as the call ended, and I tossed the device in my lap so I could rub at my eyes. This seemed to be growing more and more impossible; the gravity of the situation finally settled into my stomach like a boulder, as though I had been running on pure adrenaline for months until that moment. Weariness settled over me like a pungent cloud, heavy and unwavering.

Then to what seemed like a complete and utter miracle in dark times, a small sign came into view on the side of the highway. It read 'Mosley Lane.' _Oh, thank God,_ I thought to myself with complete relief as I gently put my foot on the brake to slow down the truck. _I don't think I could stand another hour of this._

I took a right turn off of the highway and down onto a partially invisible path through the trees that I would have completely missed if I had not been actively searching for it. I winced when the truck bounced harshly against the uneven road, threatening to wake Luke from his slumber.

As I was pondering how suspicious it would be to trade this old gas-guzzling Chevy for something better suited to my own tastes – like the Bentley I had begrudgingly given up for this rust bucket – a form covered in darkness and shadow appeared through the fog. I followed the path with ease, weaving down the winding road and hoping against hope that the giant approaching form in the distance was our destination and not just some hallucination caused from sleep deprivation.

Luckily it was the latter. The trees tapered off and opened into a nearly empty clearing as a house came into view, the white walls covered in a thin layer of dirt while vines trailed up the shutters and wrapped themselves around the beams holding up the porch. It was much bigger than the pictures had made it seem, and I vaguely wondered how Isaac and I would be able to handle the upkeep by ourselves. After all, the apartment in D.C., no matter how nice and extravagant, could never have prepared me for taking care of an actual _house._ Hell, I hadn't even _lived_ in a house in years – since I was a teenager and before everything had turned completely on its head.

A lone, nondescript black car was parked in the gravel driveway, as though it had been waiting there for ages. It's driver, a young dark-skinned woman, sat patiently on the porch, swinging back and forth on an old swing as she waited expectantly for us to approach.

I didn't immediately get out of the car; turning toward Isaac, I stated, "if you have any stupid comments to say, now would be the time to get them into the open. Once we step out of this vehicle, you and I are going to have to work as a team; I'm not going to put up with any bullshit from this point on, okay?"

Isaac simply gave me a blank stare, not even bothering to dignify my comment with any sort of response. Instead, he shoved open the heavy door and slammed it shut behind him, making me jump and frown in response. I watched as he shoved his hands into his pocket and trudged through the yard and up to the porch, when a sleep-clogged voice yawned and called out, "Mommy?"

I forced myself to hold back the sudden urge to cringe at Isaac's retreat to the house, taking in a deep and calming breath as I turned around in my seat. "Hey, sweetheart, did you sleep well?"

He nodded, eyes drooping slightly as if he were still on the cusp of sleep. "Are we at the new house yet?"

"Yeah, we are," I confirmed as I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed open the driver's side door. The grass crunched under my feet as I walked to the back, pulling open the door and reaching inside to unbuckle Luke from his car seat. He yawned again as I picked him up and cuddled him to my chest, one of his hands clutching tightly to a light blue blanket, and the other to the ragged ears of a stuffed bunny. His head went to the crook of my neck, his arms thrown over my shoulders as he gradually fell asleep in my embrace.

I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, casually throwing the blanket around his body to cover his pajama-clad skin from the chill in the air. A crackling sound came from somewhere to my left as I started toward the porch, shooting a glare up at the drizzling sky; I tensed, eyes shooting over to the line of trees and bushes that surrounded the house in every direction and shielded it from view of passersby on the highway. I stood there for several seconds, but no other sounds were heard. _You're being paranoid,_ I thought to myself. _It was probably just an animal or something, so relax. Breathe. Everything is okay._

I began walking determinedly toward the house, one foot in front of the other though I kept sparing suspicious – and probably unnecessary – glances out at the trees. "It's quiet," I commented softly to the woman on the porch, pushing a stray strand of hair from Luke's face. An owl hooted from somewhere in the distance, and looking around at my environment I had a fleeting thought that I had stepped back in time to a place in a history book. This area was so unlike the bustling city that I had lived in for years that it actually seemed like something brought from another time period.

"It's a sleepy little town," the woman, Monique Hathaway, replied as she glanced up at the dark sky. "It's a big change from the hustle and bustle of the East Coast government bigwigs, but you seem to be the type to adjust easily."

"I'm tired of having to adjust."

"That's too damn bad," Monique responded with a shrug of her shoulders, not unkindly. "Because you're stuck here whether you like it or not."

I frowned. "It's very… _Little House on the Prairie,_ " I commented hesitantly as I looked out at the trees. "I feel like I should start a bonfire and start singing Kumbaya. You couldn't have picked a better place that was a little less… rural?"

"Be happy with what you have here, because you only got this prime piece of real estate as a result of some good connections you made – AKA me." Monique sniffed as she stood up from her perch, pulling a large backpack off of the seat next to her when she spoke. "Trust me when I tell you that there were quite a few people you've scorned over the years that would have just as easily voted to ship the three of you off to a halfway house just as quick."

From the look on her face I had a feeling I knew exactly who those people were, and I sighed in relief, happy to know that those particular people didn't have anything to do with the decision-making process. "Thank God for you, then."

"It's nice to be the one saving your ass for a change, instead of having it be the other way around like it usually is." She hoisted the bag higher on her shoulder and nodded toward my truck, eyebrow rising amusedly at the nasty gaze that I gave the vehicle. "Nice truck; suits your dazzling personality."

I glared at Monique, pushing past her and into the open door to get into the house.

The inside was spacious – more than enough room for three people. It was already sparsely furnished, with a sofa and coffee table gracing the living room; both were covered in white sheets to keep away the grime, and I watched as Isaac – who was already examining most of the house and furniture with a look of utter disgust on his face – pulled one of the sheets off and wrinkled his noise at the dust that filled the air.

A fairly old television hung on the wall above a brick fireplace, where Monique immediately tried to start a small fire to combat the stale chill. "Turned on the heater before you all came, but I thought that a fire would be nice," she explained simply. "Real wood and flames – not that electrical contraption you used back in the city."

Isaac tossed the sheet over the back of the couch, frowning down at it and the rest of the room in obvious distaste. "Can I go look around upstairs?"

"Go ahead and pick out a room," I confirmed, nodding to the set of stairs leading up to the second floor while I shifted Luke in my arms. "Figure out where you want to put all of your stuff because we're going to start cleaning up as much as possible tonight."

"There are two rooms up there – it was originally an attic bedroom but we split it up into two sections; it'll be kind of cramped, but it's big enough for a teenage boy," Monique explained to Isaac's retreating back; once he had disappeared, she turned back to me. "The master bedroom is on this floor and across from it is the full bath; I doubt any of the beds have sheets or blankets on them at the moment – if they do, they definitely need to be washed before they're used."

"That will have to be a problem I'll deal with later tonight," I muttered, glancing around at the place that would be my new home for the unforeseeable future. The place was so sparse and so empty that I was brought back to a time in the faraway past, years ago, when the responsibility of taking care of two kids had fallen onto my shoulders and I had been forced to leave my home to a similarly unfamiliar and empty place.

But that had been a good thing – purposeful and with good reason. The place I grew up in had ceased to be a home a long time ago. Moving from that place had been what was best for everyone at the time, even though we had nothing. But I had survived – even thrived. I had made a name for myself without the help of anyone else and I had made a life for two kids that had no one else to care for them – I had been a success, and had never been prouder.

And now I had to start over again. It was like some sort of sick joke.

"You look tired," Monique commented as I moved to gently place Luke on the sofa, covering him with his blanket. "When's the last time you slept?"

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I kept my hands busy with pushing back Luke's hair and straightening out his blanket, effectively tucking the stuffed bunny that had been affectionately coined 'Mr. Hoppy' back into his arms. "I haven't been able to sleep well since this whole thing started happening," I admitted softly. "My life was flipped upside down – it wasn't the easiest feat to sleep with the world crumbling around me."

"You're safe here," she softly reassured me, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "You don't have to keep looking over your shoulder for the next attack anymore."

"I know," I replied, straightening up from my position of protectively leaning over Luke. "I wish it was that easy to kick myself of the habit, but it isn't." I lowered my voice, following her into the decently sized kitchen. "I'm worried about them – Luke and Isaac, _especially_ Isaac; about what this could mean for them. Luke doesn't really understand what's happening, but Isaac… he's seventeen, Mona; he was going into his final year of high school – getting ready for _college –_ "

"And he's also resilient, Audrey, just like you," she reassured me. "You've raised two strong boys, even though you didn't have to do so. Besides, we both know that Isaac didn't have much of a childhood, all things considered, but you raised him to be self-sufficient and strong because you wanted to give him – both of them – a life you never had. I promise you that once the hype settles down, he'll be fine." There was a slight pause as she gestured to the bag she had laid on the table. " _Everything_ is going to be okay as long as you understand the information in this bag, and follow instructions."

"Alright," I sighed, still not ready to face the inevitable. "Hit me with it."

Without further introduction, Monique dumped out the bag's contents onto the table; out fell several sheets of paper bearing government seals and thick envelopes containing stacks of important documents. With a dark-skinned palm, she pushed a particular folder forward and into my waiting hands. "In here is all of your basic information. Driver's licenses for both yourself and for Isaac, car and life insurance papers, birth certificates, bank information – all of your funds have been transferred to a new, nondescript account under your new name that you'll be able to access – and now you even have a college diploma from NYU."

I gave Monique a sour look before glaring down at the packet in utter derision. "So I down-graded to NYU? Fantastic. My professors at Georgetown would be impressed." I flipped open the envelope, frowning down at the pictures of myself that graced the faked documents. The effect was chilling, so I let the folder fall shut.

"A Georgetown degree would have drawn attention in a small town like this, as impressive as it may be."

"And let me guess – my cover story is just as impressive."

"Spot on." Monique shifted through the files and passed over another small stack of papers. "This is everything you both need to know about your new lives and your past history. Study it until you know it well enough to recite it in your sleep," she ordered sternly. "Your new name is Katherine Montgomery, sister to Aiden and mother to Thomas."

"Aiden is a stupid name," came a voice from somewhere behind us where Isaac had suddenly entered the room, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. "And we have to share a bathroom, by the way. If this isn't complete and utter hell, I don't know what is."

"I've spoiled you," I shot back. "If you don't like it, then you can use the hosepipe outside to bathe and build yourself an outhouse."

He made a face. "I'll pass."

Monique pursed her lips in amusement, glancing back down at the paper and continuing her speech as if nothing was wrong. "You attended NYU for the basic four years, received a degree in early American history and culture, and worked as a co-curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art before deciding that you wanted to move someplace quiet to fulfill your dream of writing a book. This seemed as good a place as any; rich in culture and history, two things that you apparently love." Monique's lips twitched. "Can't wait to see how the book turns out."

My eyes must have shown my utter anger, because Monique's smirk dropped. "Stop it," I snapped, hands clenched around the papers. "These are our lives we're talking about here and you're acting like it's some sort of joke. Everything I've worked for – everything I did for myself and for Luke and Isaac – it's all gone and you're making _jokes?_ I've – I've gone from a lawyer working with the Department of Justice with a law degree from Georgetown to NYU graduate and museum worker! This is complete _shit!_ "

" _Relax,_ " Monique commanded, unbothered. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. It's just that you've always wanted to write a book but you never got around to it because you were always so busy – now you don't have a choice to do anything but write. It's just kind of ironic."

"I fail to see how it's funny, nor do I see how it's ironic," I commented sharply. "What else do I need to know?"

Monique shrugged. "Not much. You should know, though, that your house is basically on the border of Forks and the local Indian reservation. Technically it's on their land, but it's considered a part of Forks. Don't be surprised when you see a pretty big mix of locals when you go towards town."

"I've lived in D.C., Monique. I've seen the epitome of diversity."

"Very true. You should also be aware that you aren't supposed to be able to contact me at all unless it's a dire emergency. I'll be in touch maybe once every six months or so, but that's it. Otherwise, you won't have any contact whatsoever with anyone from your former life. You're on your own. You can't contact anyone you used to know, and you sure as hell can't go back to D.C. under any circumstances."

"What if something happens?"

"Nothing's going to happen," she said, shrugging her shoulders again. "But on the off chance it does, then you should contact the local sheriff. That's what he's there for. As long as you follow the instructions I've given you, you'll be okay. Honestly, have you seen this place? It's like Mayberry – no secrets, no surprises."

An ominous feeling sent chills up my spine but I pushed the feeling away. _No secrets, no surprises._ "Okay."

"I'm serious, _Katherine_ ," Monique urged, the fake name sounding strange on her lips. "No contact. Complete radio silence. If you talk to anyone you used to know, with the exception of me on very rare occasions, then we'll have to relocate you again. And next time, I can't promise that the place will be as nice."

A lump appeared in my throat; my eyes stung. "We - I understand."

Monique's eyes softened. "Every time I do this it never gets any easier, but now that it's someone I actually know… I finally realize how hard it can be. I'm sorry that this is happening – I truly am. If I could change it, I would."

The words were meaningless and did nothing to change my mood or situation, but deep down I knew that Monique meant well and I was grateful for her concern. "Thanks," I responded wearily, my heart not in my words.

She suddenly stood. "I should go and let you get settled. Long drive back to the airport." Without hesitation, she pulled me into a tight hug. "I'll call you sometime on your new cell in the next week or so to make sure you're doing okay, but that'll be the last time we talk for a long time unless there's an emergency – which there won't be. You're safe here."

"That means a lot," I forced myself to reply, returning the hug with equal strength. "But you don't have to check in on us. This isn't the first time I've had to start over."

 _But not like this._

There was a brief pause before she gathered Isaac into a hug of his own. "You make sure to take care of your big sister, okay?" She met my eyes over his shoulder. "She likes to think she can take on the world, but even she needs help sometimes."

Isaac managed to give her a sideways grin as she pulled away. "Will do, Mona."

"I'll call you later to see how you're settling – and make sure you give Thomas a kiss for me," she insisted, unwinding her arms and smiling, trying to find a light in the dark situation though I could easily see that her eyes were glassy; I looked away. "I should go," she repeated. "Look at the bright side – at least you don't have to worry about noisy neighbors."

I chuckled despite the tense atmosphere. "Yeah, that'll help me sleep better, I suppose."

Without another word, Monique waved a hand in farewell and left, the door swinging shut behind her. The headlights of her car lit up the windows for several seconds before they disappeared, the sound of tires rolling against gravel slowly fading away into the night.

"Okay," I spoke softly to myself as I retook my seat at the table, flipping half-heartedly through the papers. "We can do this. We _have_ to do this."

Because according to the United States government, Audrey, Isaac, and Lucas Perdue were now dead and three strange people named Katherine, Aiden, and Thomas Montgomery had taken their empty spaces in the world. Inhaling deeply, I sighed, struck with the uncomfortable knowledge that we were, once again, alone.

* * *

I didn't sleep at all that night.

The house was a fixer-upper and some part of my already sleep-deprived brain figured that it would be a magnificent idea to work through the night and get things done instead of waiting for morning, after I had gotten some rest. But there was too much to do, too much to get done – the walls of every room needed a new layer of paint, the floors needed to be mopped and polished, light bulbs needed changing, furniture needed dusting, and every single appliance in the kitchen needed to be scrubbed at least twice.

A trip to the hardware store was in dire need, as well. The faucets in both the kitchen and bathroom were in need of replacement with something new and a little less… rusted, the light in the kitchen had partially destroyed and frayed wires that desperately needed to be taken out before they started a fire, and for some reason, the cable on the TV just wouldn't cooperate.

And then there was _outside_. That was a completely different story altogether.

I spent the better portion of the night working out my frustrations on my hands and knees, scrubbing down the hard tile and wooden floors in each room and wiping down the counters with some industrial strength cleaning products that I had found under the leaky kitchen sink. The rest of the house had been examined and explored, furniture uncovered, and two loads of old sheets and blankets had already passed through the washing machine and dryer. By the time I realized that I was only running on fumes, the clock had ticked toward 9 AM and Luke, who was the only one that had slept through the night, finally started to stir.

Overall I was extremely proud of both myself and of Isaac for getting so much work done in such a short amount of time. I sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in my hand, resting my body a bit as I dug through one of the boxes of possessions I had been able to salvage from the debris of our former home. I slurped at the coffee greedily, dodging around Isaac as he was doing the dishes so that I could set a framed picture of the three of us on the windowsill above the sink.

Most of the morning passed similarly with me attempting to unpack as much a humanly possible before I crashed, and by the time 1:30 rolled around, the place looked halfway decent. It was at that moment, as I was climbing out of a well-needed shower and filled with enough coffee to rival even the most serious of caffeine connoisseurs, that I was introduced to my first resident of the tiny town.

The loud buzz of the doorbell reached my ears just as I was pulling on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, trying to ring some of the excess water out of my dripping hair. Feeling both curious and suspicious, I slowly made my way over to the front door and, upon opening it, found myself face to face with a young native woman. She was so heavily pregnant that her belly looked ready to burst, and she was holding a wicker basket in her hands from which a delicious smell was wafting.

But neither of those factors could be considered the most defining trait of the woman. On the right side of her face were three deep scars, distorting part of her eye and pulling the right side of her mouth down into a grimace. Despite the flaws she was still beautiful, and I clapped myself on the back at my ability to keep my composure at such a shock, speaking as though nothing was wrong. "Hello, how can I help you?"

The woman gave a kind smile, her voice gentle and melodic. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything. My name is Emily Uley. I live just down the road – technically, we're neighbors." She nodded her head to the left, where I assumed was the direction of her home, before she held out the basket to me. "It isn't often that new people move around here so I just wanted to bring you a little gift to welcome you to the neighborhood."

I took the gift, dumbfounded. The smell coming from the basket was superbly enticing, and I lifted up the napkin covering the treats to see several large blueberry muffins as well as a glass container filled with some sort of pasta. My stomach grumbled and I was suddenly reminded of how the most sustenance that I'd had in the past 36 hours had been coffee.

"Oh, um – thank you," I replied, unsure what to say. I was completely floored by this kind gesture; people back in Washington D.C. never did anything remotely kind without having some sort of ulterior motive. As far as I knew, it was the same in other places; it seemed that Emily Uley hadn't gotten the memo – or at least, even more rare, she was just a genuinely kind woman. Gauging that she meant no ill will, I hesitantly stepped aside to allow her into the house. "I'm K-Katherine Montgomery," I greeted, mentally cursing myself for stumbling over my new name. "This was very kind of you, but honestly you didn't have to go out of your way for us."

Emily opened her mouth to respond but never got the chance. From the living room came what sounded like a loud battle cry from Luke, a shout of surprise from Isaac, a crash, then a high-pitched scream of fear and a loud curse. "Come back here, you little brat!"

Emily raised an eyebrow in surprise as I sighed. "My family," I told her in explanation at the very moment a small blur flew into the room, wrapping his arms around my legs and nearly knocking me over. "Would you two stop messing around?" I called out exasperatedly as Isaac ran into the room and glared down at Luke. "Especially when we have a _guest,_ " I nodded pointedly at Emily.

Isaac frowned and grumbled something under his breath.

I ignored him and turned to Emily. "My brother, Aiden," I gestured to the moody teenager, "and my son, Thomas." The younger boy was peeking out from behind my knees, looking warily at Isaac before he turned his curious gaze to Emily. He clutched at his stuffed bunny with one hand, a long blue towel tied around his neck like a cape. "Boys, this is Emily Uley – our new neighbor."

Emily's smile faltered for half of a second as she looked down at Luke, and I could tell exactly what she was thinking – it was as though I could physically see the cogs turning in her head, trying to add up ages and coming up with a number that was much too young for anyone to have a kid so old. But the look was gone almost as fast as it had appeared and her eyes twinkled with laughter. "It's nice to meet all of you. I like your bunny," she said to Luke, giving him a grin.

He immediately perked up at the sudden mention of his favorite toy. "His name is Mr. Hoppy!"

"Well it's very nice to meet both you and Mr. Hoppy," she said, leaning down a tiny bit to shake the bunny's paw as though it were a human, much to Luke's delight.

"What was the crash I heard?" I asked Isaac.

He rolled his eyes. " _Thomas,_ " he stated, arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at the younger boy, "knocked over a lamp when he tried to jump on my back when I was fiddling with the cable wires."

I rolled my eyes. "Go get the broom and dustpan out of the kitchen and bring it in the living room for me, and _you_ , young man," I commanded as I gave Luke a stern pat on the back, "go play in your room for right now."

"Whatever," replied Isaac, pushing off from the doorframe and out of the room. Luke, on the other hand, did what I ordered without complaint.

When they had both disappeared, I turned back to Emily. "I'm sorry about that. Aiden is at that age where he has to be grumpy about everything and Thomas is – well, he's just a complete mess."

Emily merely laughed, placing a protective hand over bulging stomach. "It's completely alright. I have a hoard of my husband's coworkers going in and out of my house every day and honestly, they act like children most of the time; I'm completely used to it."

I didn't really know how to respond so I merely forced out a smile and shifted the basket in my grip, watching as she curiously glanced around.

"I'm sorry," she suddenly stated, sounding sheepish. "I'm sure you're probably busy getting settled. I just wanted to welcome you to town and give you the muffins and pasta. Oh, and," she determinedly dug a folded sheet of paper out of her pocket and handed it over. "My cell number. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to call."

I frowned, trying my best to hide how uncomfortable I was. "Thank you," I told her, knowing that it was a generic reply but hoping it would do the trick all the same. "You didn't have to do this; it really wasn't necessary."

She waved a careless hand. "It isn't a problem in the slightest. It wouldn't be a burden – I'm always happy to help in any way I can." Then Emily cleared her throat and rested her hands on her hips, as though she had just completely a particularly taxing task; with a subtle glance at Emily's huge belly, I concluded that she had every right to be exhausted. "I should get back before my husband sends out a search party – he's gotten horribly protective ever since we found out I was pregnant. Men," she shrugged, "what can you do?"

I forced myself to laugh when she did, but it didn't sound as convincing as I wished.

"It was very nice meeting you, Katherine," she said, sounding so sincere that I was actually taken aback. "I hope to see you again soon; have a wonderful day!"

Then she was gone, heading down the driveway to her car and giving a small wave when she climbed into the old vehicle, and I was stuck standing in my doorway in confusion and shock with a piece of paper burning a hole in my hand.

"I fixed the cable so the TV is working now," Isaac's voice came from somewhere behind me. "Audrey?"

I finally shook myself out of my reverie and my gaze turned away from the scribbled numbers on the slip of paper. "Katherine, Aiden. My name is Katherine. Even around the house you need to get used to using it so we don't accidentally have any slip-ups in public."

"The point is that I fixed the cable," he said impatiently, taking the basket out of my hands and digging out one of the muffins. "So if you don't mind, I'm going to take one of these and go sleep for the rest of the day because I'm exhausted."

"Well get some rest because we have a big day tomorrow."

And so it was, the end of the first day of what was probably the rest of our lives. With an ache in my heart but a heavy determination stewing deep within my chest, I let the front door fall shut behind me, effectively locking me into our new life.

* * *

 _Start us off on a good note and leave a review to let me know what you think!_

 _Also, the issue with the names has been corrected - thanks to reader-chic-2 for pointing it out to me!_


	2. The Encounter in the Hardware Store

_For those who asked: this is going to be updated on a weekly basis - give or take a few days, considering how long some of the chapters are._

 _Thank you for the reviews! Please keep them coming (along with opinions or suggestions) because they let me know what i'm doing right/wrong with the story._

* * *

Chapter 2:

" _For some people, the 'point of no return' begins the moment their souls become aware of each other's existence." – C. Joybell C._

My body finally reached its breaking point sometime after eight o'clock. I had fallen asleep on the cleaned sofa in the living room after giving it a good scrubbing and a healthy spray of air freshener to get out the smell of staleness. My intentions had been to only let my eyes rest for half a moment, but I had inevitably dozed off and didn't wake again until a sudden ringing next to my ear jolted me out of my heavy slumber. It took several seconds for me to realize where, exactly, I was, and to understand that the ringing beside my head was actually coming from my new cell phone.

Out of habit, I blindly reached out in my disoriented state to grab the phone from the coffee table before pressing it to my ear. "Hello?" I managed to ask through a yawn, my voice clogged with sleep. My eyebrows furrowed when there was no response, and it was then that I realized that it wasn't a phone call; instead, my alarm was warning me that ten o'clock had arrived, bringing with it a reminder that I desperately needed to go to the store.

I let out a groan as I stretched, joints aching as my toes curled against the rough fabric of the couch. "Too damn early," I grumbled, pulling myself into a sitting position and running a hand through my tangled hair. "Come on, Audrey – Katherine. My name is Katherine now. Time to get up and face the day."

'Face the day' is exactly what I did. I stood, stretched again, and trailed up the stairs to wake the two snoozing boys. My first stop was at Luke's room, pleased to find that he was already awake, clad in his pajamas and digging around in one of his unpacked boxes for his action figures. He gave me a wide, toothy grin. "Morning, mommy!" he greeted happily.

"Morning, sweetie," I nodded, moving to dig in his dresser drawers to get him a set of appropriate clothes for the day. "Did you sleep well?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Oh?" I asked, smiling triumphantly when I pulled out a pair of pants and a shirt with one of his favorite cartoon characters emblazoned on the front. "Why not? Was your bed not comfy enough? Did you need more blankets or pillows?"

"It was the wolves, mommy," he said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Wolves outside the window last night."

"Wolves?" I asked, humoring him. I had to dodge a mountain of toys on the floor as I walked over to his bed, and laid out the clothes before moving to help him remove his pajamas. "What wolves?"

"Outside in the woods!" he replied eagerly. "They kept making noises – AWOOOO!" he crooned, mimicking a wolf's howl before letting out a giggle when I tickled him.

"Howling, huh? Well that was a pretty good howl that you just did, maybe you're a wolf in disguise," I playfully said, tugging his shirt over his head. "Now, my little wolf-boy, finish getting dressed while I try to go and wake up your sleepyhead uncle."

Now it was time for the challenge.

Rolling back my shoulders, I pushed open the door to Isaac's room and flicked on the light switch. He was sprawled across the entirety of his mattress, limbs flailing in several different directions; his blankets were hanging off of the bed while his head was tucked securely under his pillow. "Alright, time to get up and face the day," I called out, moving across the room to pull the blankets the rest of the way off of the bed before I opened the curtains to let in the dim morning light. "We have to go to the store."

His voice sounded muffled under the pillow, but I could make out the general tone of whatever he had said. " _Go away._ "

"Come _on,_ " I urged, forcefully tugging the pillow away from his head and hitting his bare back with it. "The truck is leaving in twenty minutes, with or without you; if you get up now, you'll still have time to get something light for breakfast."

"Fantastic," he stated, face pressed into the sheets. "Leave without me, I don't care."

"Fine," I said simply, complacent. "Then I'm getting pink paint for your bedroom walls." At his pained groan, I reached out to ruffle his hair. "Get dressed; I don't want to have to wait for you."

He waved a hand to gesture me away. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be ready."

I doubted it, but I left him alone. "I'm serious about the pink paint," I threatened as I headed toward his bedroom door. "If you aren't downstairs by the time I'm ready, we're leaving without you."

"Slave driver."

"Lazy ass."

By the time I exited out of my bedroom, out of my pajamas and dressed in something decent that didn't smell completely of cleaning products and made sure that Luke had gotten something to eat before we left, Isaac trudged out of his bedroom looking as though he were still half asleep.

"Ah, it looks like the dead has risen," I commented when he collapsed in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, resting his head on the hard surface. "Welcome to the land of the living again."

"I feel like I could sleep for another two days," he mumbled, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "We were up for at least two days straight. How are you still functioning?" I lifted my coffee mug and took a sip of the liquid in response, making him roll his eyes. "Of course," he replied sarcastically, resting his head on his hand. "You and that coffee - so unhealthy."

Less than five minutes later, I had snatched up my keys and wallet off of the counter and led my ragtag group outside and to the truck. None of us spoke again until we were out onto the highway.

"I'm completely surprised at you," said Isaac, resting his head against the window.

"Why?"

"Because you're acting so unlike yourself – to be honest, it's starting to creep me out," he admitted, awkwardly shifting in his seat to face me. "The Audrey I know would be fighting tooth and nail to do what she wanted – to stay in her own home and not listen to anyone else make her choices for her."

"I'm not Audrey anymore," I found myself replying, my voice holding only a small amount of bitterness. "If it was any other situation, I _would_ have fought tooth and nail to stay where I was, but you know why I couldn't."

"No, Au- _Katherine_ , I don't know," he shot back.

"If it was just me, I wouldn't have left," I said calmly, despite the fact that I wanted to reach out and throttle him. "But I wasn't going to risk you and Lu-Thomas. I would give up everything I had a thousand times over if it meant the two of you were going to be safe."

"Who's Thomas?" piped up the boy in the backseat innocently.

"You are, honey."

"But I'm Luke," he stated confusedly, leaning forward.

I exchanged a glance with Isaac, racking my brain to explain the situation in a way that he would understand. "You know how mommy used to work for the government to put bad people in prison?"

In the rearview mirror, I saw him nod.

"Well, we're playing a… sort of a game of hide and seek with someone mommy put in jail," I hesitantly explained. "He's a bad man who ran away when he was in trouble, so we're going to be hiding from him. We're using different names so that he won't find us. Your new name is Thomas, Isaac is Aiden, and my new name is Katherine – but you can still call me mommy. Does that make sense?"

"Is that why we had to move? Was the fire because of the bad man?"

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, it was." There was a brief moment of silence. "So from now on we're all going to use our play names whenever we can. You can't tell anyone your real name or we might lose hide and seek."

"Oh. Okay."

Once he went back to playing with the action figure he had brought with him, I turned back to Isaac. "I know this is going to be hard on us; I know how it must have hurt to leave all of your friends and uproot your life, but the fact is that things are going to be different now," I stated, taking on a gentle tone. "This isn't the capitol city anymore – it's a small town and people don't act the same way, so we have to change who we are to keep under the radar. If that means cooperating, being accommodating, and playing nice with the locals, then that's what we're going to do. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

And no more was said on the subject.

oOo

The nearest hardware store was located deep within La Push, in a surprisingly clear area surrounded on one side by trees and on the other, a small grocery store. The building itself looked as though it had been recently remodeled, but the sign reading 'Call's Hardware' was rusty and falling off of its hinges. I pulled into one of the several empty parking spots with a sudden sense of uneasy foreboding entering my heart, climbing out of the truck and breathing in the fresh smell of the damp air.

A small bell above the door jingled as we entered the building, alerting everyone in the store of our sudden presence. I grunted as I lifted Luke into a basket, fingers curling around the handle and gripping tightly to the key around my neck for support. I followed Isaac through the store and prepared myself for… for what? I didn't know, but there was this itching feeling at the back of my neck that told me that something was going to happen – _soon_.

A shockingly gigantic and muscular man with shaggy hair was standing behind the counter, chatting to a boy of similar height that was holding a young child in his arms. Both gave me nods of acknowledgement before the one behind the counter, whose name-tag read 'Embry,' greeted politely, "Welcome to Call's Hardware, ma'am. Is there anything I can help you with today?"

"Paint? And brushes?" I asked, fingers clenching around the handle of the basket as Luke glanced curiously around, studying the place with a keen eye. The little girl waved at us, and Luke smiled and waved back at her.

"Aisle three," Embry answered, giving a cheery smile.

I gave a half-hearted smile in response, but I was sure it came out something like a grimace. "Thanks."

The aisles were small and a bit cramped, but I managed to push the basket through the store and end up in front of the paint samples. The selection was limited, but I was okay with that – I wasn't in the mood to make any huge decisions. Picking out a plain pearly cream for the kitchen and living room, and a dark red for my bedroom, I turned to the youngest boy waiting patiently behind me. "Okay, sweetie, which color do you want for your room?"

He gave the array of samples a critical look; Luke's eyes narrowed as he pointed out a dark navy blue on the very end of the row of colors. "That one."

I pointed at it, confirming. "This one?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

" _Yes_ ," he urged, reaching down to take the samples from my hands.

"Okay, because you won't be able to change it if you decide you don't like the blue later," I warned him.

"I want this one," he insisted, shoving the sample into my hands.

"What about you?" I asked Isaac. "Do you see anything you like?"

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I kind of like the dark green, but I'm not sure."

"It kind of looks like the color you had in your room before," I pointed out. "That would be good if you wanted something familiar." Seeing the look on his face, I continued, "or I could just let you decide while I finish getting what I need. Come find me when you're done."

"Will do."

Gradually I made my way through the store, tossing items into my basket as I checked them off of my mental list. As I was critically looking at a box of light bulbs, the bell at the front of the building jingled lightly to signal the arrival of someone new. "Hey, Paul," a duo of voices greeted from the front of the store, while a high-pitched cheer sounded out, "Uncle Paulie!"

There was a deep chuckle, then a husky voice responding, "Hey, Claire-Bear." Something else was said, but the words were honestly too quiet for me to hear until the voice pined in again with, "I would honestly kill to be asleep right now, but I had to come and pick up some extra parts for Em's gift. Sam is rushing me to finish it for her, but it's kind of hard when she keeps changing what color she wants for the nursery."

"You know how she is - always indecisive. But I'm sure that whatever you end up doing, she's going to love it."

There was a snort and a bit of laughter. "Yeah, yeah. It's just hard to get around to finishing it when Sam has me working overtime now with patrol since –"

There was a sudden hiss and more urgently whispered conversation, then a beat of silence. I was only half-listening to their conversation, but something about his words made me pause. Shaking my head, I grabbed a small box of the bulbs and placed it gently in the basket, listening to the metal object creak against the floor as it rolled across the tile.

The conversation at the front started up again. "Are you at least going to be at their place for dinner tonight? You know she's going to kill you if you miss again – especially without a good reason."

"I know," replied the voice that I assumed was Paul. "And trust me, that bitch I missed Emily's cooking for last time was _not_ worth the effort. Good in the sack, but she had the personality of a rock."

I cringed, a flare of heat going straight up my spine. They had a lot of nerve using that kind of language about a woman, especially in front of a small child. "Uncle Paulie," the young voice interrupted, "That's not a nice word!"

There was chuckling from somewhere up front. "Yeah, Paul, watch the language. That's just so messed up though, missing Emily's cooking for some chick you're only spending one night with. You're lucky you haven't caught some kind of –"

Before he could even finish his sentence, I cleared my throat loudly. There was a lull in the conversation, a lowly muttered comment and a snort, more muttered conversation, and finally, heavy footsteps that headed in the opposite direction of the store - thankfully, far away from where I was standing.

Tossing a box of hooks next to the light bulbs, I pushed my basket forward through the aisle and toward the counter. I did my best to hold my head as high as possible despite my short stature – a defense mechanism that I had developed and perfected over the years. If I could make myself seem taller, I would come off as confident. Though with the size of these men, I'm sure they probably just thought I was amusing.

Isaac appeared at the end of the aisle then, surprising me at his sudden appearance. "These guys are huge!" he mouthed, raising a hand high above his head to show just how tall these people were. "Like they have literally got to be on steroids or something!"

I put my finger on my lips to hush him in case someone heard his words, and gestured for him to follow after he handed over a paint sample of the dark green color he had originally liked.

No one new was at the counter, but I could still feel the presence of another person in the store like there was a radar attached to my brain. The feeling was pungent, sinking into my skin and making me dart my gaze back and forth in anticipation. The cashier – Embry – smiled at my approach as if nothing was wrong. "Did you find everything okay today, ma'am?"

"Yes," I said, my tone clipped as I placed the paint samples on the counter. "I need four cans of the white, two of the red, and one each of the dark green and blue."

The shorter of the two boys had raised an eyebrow at my blunt and all business-like tone, but didn't speak. Embry's smile fell a little, though he was still civil and helpful. "If you wait right here, I'll be more than happy to go get these in the back for you."

I nodded, tapping my fingers impatiently on the counter.

"Quil," he spoke directly to the other boy. "Do me a favor and ring up what she has in her basket."

Quil just shrugged, replacing Embry behind the counter as he headed to the back of the store. Their height intimidated me slightly, both being well over 6 foot and made up of what looked like pure muscle. Quil placed the little girl, who I could now see was clutching a stuffed wolf toy, onto the counter to free his hands and ring up the merchandise. "You guys must be new here, huh?" he asked conversationally. "Haven't seen you before."

"We just moved here," I replied, tone clipped.

He opened his mouth to say something else, apparently trying to be conversational, but was interrupted by the re-arrival of Embry. Two cans of paint were hanging in each of his hands, and he set them down in the basket. "Here's the white," he stated. "The other two are in the mixer right now. It'll only take a few minutes for them to finish."

"I don't mind waiting," I responded, watching as he climbed back behind the counter and pushed the other boy away.

"Your total with the paint is going to end up being $184.24."

I handed over two hundred-dollar bills, still not feeling comfortable enough to use a traceable card. My eyes glued themselves to the ceiling to avoid eye contact and not accidentally open myself up for any new conversations.

"Here's your receipt," he stated, handing over the strip of paper and the change. "Will you need any help bringing out the paint to your car?"

"No, we can handle it."

"Alright then," he shrugged, exchanging a glance with Quil. "I'll just go and get the rest of your paint."

"Are you liking it here in La Push?" Quil asked as I moved my basket a little bit away from the counter and toward the door. My body language should have told him that I really wasn't in the mood for conversation, but he apparently didn't seem to notice - or more likely, didn't seem to care.

"It's a little too wet for my taste."

He smirked. "You get used to it. I take it that you all aren't from a place that gets a lot of rain?"

"New York City," I stated, lips twitching upward in grim amusement.

He raised an eyebrow. "Long way away from home. What made you move all the way out here?"

I tried, I really did, but I just couldn't help myself. "Oh, you know, we were just trying to get away from all of the people that ask too many nosy questions that aren't any of their business."

His brows shot up to his hairline while a snort of derisive laughter came from the opposite side of the store; it was almost immediately disguised with a cough. I felt Isaac nudge my side, giving me a stern look, but I merely gave him a tight smile in return, my eyes narrowing at one of the nearby shelves in irritation.

It was silent, and Quil opened his mouth to respond but was almost immediately interrupted by another voice. I heard him before I saw him, the sound of heavy steps in work boots hitting the floor approaching from one of the far aisles. "Sweetheart," said the voice, clear and condescending, "if you were looking for a place where people would mind their own business, you came to the wrong town."

My eyes and tone of voice turned icy and filled with warning as I began to turn and glare at the offender. "Don't call me sweetheart."

Looking back on this moment later in my life, I could pinpoint it as the exact moment that everything went to hell – or at least, it became the moment that defined everything that ever happened to me for the rest of my life. Everything that I had ever experienced up until that point was preparing me, steeling my nerves for this exact second.

My senses went into overdrive; my skin tingled, goosebumps making their way up my arms. For some reason, a memory of Mona came to the forefront of my mind, remembering how she had said, " _It's like Mayberry – no secrets, no surprises,_ " and the ominous feeling that had come with those words had returned tenfold. My hand went back to the key around my neck, squeezing it so tightly that I could feel it leaving an imprint in my skin.

An aching feeling settled itself in my chest. Something was off. Something was _wrong._ Or… no, not wrong. Ominous – unsettled seemed to be a better way to describe it. The feeling in the pit of my chest was not necessarily a bad one, but it was strange all the same. Something was going to happen, I knew. I wasn't entirely sure _what_ , but it was something. And it was happening _now._

My eyes focused in on the man that had spoken, trailing upward over his brown steel-toed boots to his cargo shorts and faded, dirty t-shirt. His muscles were prominent but not overly so; he had muscular calves and thighs that hinted at his body being that of a runner. His arms were defined and veiny, while his hands looked rough; one was clenched around two boxes of screws, while the other hung limply at his side. He was tall, too, like the other men standing behind the counter, and I had a passing thought that there must be in the water to make these people grow the way they did.

As my fingers tightened around the key, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as though I was being watched. Finally, my gaze shot upward toward his face, cautious about the blatant curiosity that had suddenly overcome me. As it turned out, he was studying me with as much intensity as I was examining him, but in a completely different way. His eyes lingered a bit too slowly on my jean-clad legs and over the curves of my hips, settling just a little too long on my chest before moving upward to my face.

The irises of his eyes were so dark that for a single moment I thought they were black, but instead they were a deep, beautiful brown. He froze mid-step when our eyes met, free hand in the process of reaching up to run through his hair. His brows scrunched together in confusion as his blatant stare moved from appraisal to shock. The cocky smirk tumbled off of his face at the same moment that the box of screws fell out of his hand. The tiny metal pieces popped out of their box and scattered across the floor, rolling under the displays.

I had seen men like him before – well, not _like him,_ but his type. _He was one of_ _ **them.**_

In my years of working with the scum of the earth and all those who associated with that scum, I had developed a habit of putting men that I came into contact with into one of three categories:

In category one, you had your basic jerks; your everyday men who think they're absolute tough shit. I had run-ins with these types of people several times a day back in D.C.; sometimes you just couldn't escape them because they were literally everywhere. Then, a little higher up on the scale in the second category, you had your major assholes – the men who literally went out of their way to make the lives of other people a living hell. I had seen my fair share of these people as well.

And then finally, there was category three: _them –_ what I liked to call the absolute un-evolved neanderthals of the earth. These were the misogynistic douchebags of the world that tossed women around like they were sacks of meat. I had put several of them in prison – a fact that I was extremely proud of – and I had gained the ability to spot one of _them_ from miles away. Anyone who didn't have respect for women was no better than the gum underneath my shoes.

And I could tell by the way he looked at me that he was one of _them._

But at the same time… he was still _different._

I was used to glances on the street. I was used to having people studying me like I was a slab of meat, like he had been doing only seconds before. It was easy to handle that, and I knew how to stand my ground and blatantly call people out on their sexist harassment. I had done it before and I wouldn't hesitate to do it again.

But this… this wasn't the same _._ I had never been looked at with such intensity and passion, and it made me extremely uncomfortable. In response, I did what I did best – went into my ultimate defensive mode, simultaneously shielding a baffled Isaac and oblivious Luke with my body as they, Quil, and the little girl stared on in confusion.

His expression had been one of shock, but it changed to horror so fast that I was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. Then his features turned to rage, muscles in his arms flexing as his hands clenched, nails digging into his palms.

It was at this moment that Embry had decided would be the ideal time to return, completely oblivious to the tension. "Here are your last two cans of paint, ma'am." He stopped after placing the cans in the basket, finally taking in the tense atmosphere and the looks on our faces. "Everything okay here?"

"No, it's not," I scowled, pushing past him and backing the basket up so I could push it out the door and to the parking lot. "Because your freaky friend won't stop staring at me. Is this how you treat all your customers? It's a really shitty way to run a business."

I was gone and out the door before any of them could say a word, angry at myself and at the stupid situation that I was in, and cursing my terrible luck. Heaving everything into the empty truck bed, I climbed into the driver's seat faster than I believed was humanly possible. My fingers clenched harshly against the wheel and, almost against my control, my eyes shot back to take one last glance through the store windows. Paul and Embry had disappeared – only Quil was left with the little girl, staring at me with an unreadable expression.

My eyes shot away, and I swiftly pulled out of the spot and backed out onto the highway, headed for home.

oOo

Spending the better part of the day simmering with confusing frustration that seemed to come out of nowhere, I did my best to spend my time doing something productive instead of attempting to figure out what my emotions were trying to tell me. Lounging in the bathtub with my hair tied up and out of the way, I sunk down deeper into the bubbles, making sure to keep the tiny notebook and pen out of the water as I made a list of everything that still needed to be done in the next few days.

But I couldn't concentrate. For some reason, I was _infuriated._

Grumbling a curse to myself, I tossed the pen and book onto the floor and forced myself to relax within the steaming water, breathing in the smell of the floral bubble bath and body wash. _Breathe,_ I urged myself. _Just breathe._

But it felt as if I _couldn't_ breathe – as if my chest had decided to suddenly start restricting how much oxygen would go into my lungs.

I rested my head on the rim of the tub and took in a deep breath, wishing that a glass of red wine would suddenly appear in my hand to help calm my nerves. The chain around my neck rolled against my skin, the key dipping in and out of the bubbles. Absently, I tugged at it and let my eyes fall shut, hoping that holding onto the old keepsake would give me a bit of calmness and mental peace.

For half of a moment, I felt peace –

Until a knock came from the bathroom door.

The key fell out of my hands and back into place against my skin, momentarily forgotten. "Yeah?" I called out wearily.

"Just checking to make sure you haven't shriveled up and died or something," Isaac's muffled voice called out in response. "You've been in there for almost an hour. Are you coming out any time soon? Because I really have to use the bathroom."

I frowned and pinched the bridge of my nose, reaching over the side of the tub to grab my towel and rid my skin of the water and soap from my bath. "Yeah, I'm coming right now; just give me a second to get dried off." I did, ignoring the sound of him tapping his foot on the other side of the door. I snatched up my robe and tied it tightly around my waist.

"Are you okay?" Isaac asked immediately once I had opened the door and slid past him. "You've been acting weird ever since you practically went off on that guy in the hardware store."

"I'm fine," I replied, "but exhausted. I think I'm just going to go check on Thomas one last time then crawl into bed." He shrugged and made to move past me, but I grabbed his arm, effectively keeping him in place. "Are you okay? I'm surprised you aren't sleeping yet."

"I'm fine," he echoed my words. "I just…" He hesitated, glancing down at his bare feet. "I don't like this place. The people all look like they're using steroids, it's too cold and wet; it gets too dark at night and too quiet; it was always noisy back in D.C. – I'm not used to it. I just want to go back home."

I placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, heart clenching in pain. "I know; I'm so sorry. I wish we were back home, too, and if I could turn back time and get us home again, I would do so in a heartbeat, but I can't."

"I know," he tugged his arm away. "It's no big deal; I guess it's just something I have to get used to, right?" With that, he shrugged my hand away from his shoulder and shut the bathroom door in my face.

I gave the door one last long glance as I left the hallway and headed to my room, quietly shutting the door before resting my back against it and sliding down to the floor. My head fell into my hands as I realized that the feeling of foreboding along with the loss of control had sent both Isaac and myself into a horrible downward spiral; our lives uprooted and changed because of a stupid decision.

Two days down, a million left to go.

* * *

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	3. A Kick in the Neighbor's Kitchen

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Chapter 3:

 _"Life is not a matter of holding good cards, but of playing a poor hand well." – Robert Louis Stevenson_

 _Superior Court of Washington, D.C., 7 Months Ago:_

 _As always, Audrey Perdue was feeling completely and utterly proud of herself._

 _"… and I believe that we can all wholeheartedly agree that not only was Mr. De Palma found near the crime scene at the time of our victim's brutal murder, but he also had motive when it was discovered that the Mariani family had stolen over two hundred thousand dollars worth of diamonds from Mr. De Palma's personal safe in Arlington last summer."_

 _Dressed to kill in a stern gray pencil skirt and dark purple blouse, Audrey addressed the jury with an air of superiority and assurance. There was not a person in the room who could deny the fact that she oozed confidence, not speaking until she was positive that she had the attention of every person in the room._

 _Sternly meeting the eyes of each member of the jury, Audrey trailed her hand along the polished wood of the jury box. "Ladies and gentlemen, murder is a very serious crime. The Mariani's have admitted to being in possession of the stolen diamonds, and you have seen over the last few days of this trial just how much the two families have been in a war with each other. It was only a matter of time until someone was hurt."_

 _She met the eyes of the defendant's defense attorney and glared, eyes flashing as the corners of her lips turned up in cruel and simmering amusement. She had this case wrapped up, and everyone knew it._

 _"Our victim, Eleanor Mariani, just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Checking on their family's assets in their summer home," she tsked. "Shame how crime begets crime. Mr. Frankie De Palma, in an attempt to steal back what he felt he was due – what he felt his **family** was due – snuck into the Mariani summer home, but did not expect Ms. Eleanor Mariani to be there. Ms. Mariani was murdered in cold blood and –"_

 _" **It's a lie**!" yelled out the defendant, Frankie De Palma. " **It's a damn lie**!"_

 _A sudden uproar surged in the audience, people talking and mumbling as the judge attempted to get things under control. He banged his gavel against his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "Order in the court! Mr. De Palma, one more outburst and I'll hold you in contempt." He waited until the noise died down, gesturing for Audrey to continue. "As you were, Miss Perdue, but please try to speed it up."_

 _"Thank you, Your Honor," she said stiffly, her tone clipped as she walked straight past the man without looking at him. "What more is there to say? You have seen the harsh and incriminating evidence with your own eyes, heard the testimonies and witness statements. There is nothing more that I can tell you except to help you understand that you are, in fact, providing justice and defending a woman who was murdered in her prime. I hope you make the right choice."_

 _"Now," said Judge Scott, standing as Audrey moved back to her seat next to her assistant. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, if you will please make your way into the conference room to discuss the verdict?"_

 _Judge Scott made his way out of the room and to his office while as one group, the jury stood and followed each other through a side door to the conference room to decide the fate of Frankie De Palma. Almost immediately, eager chatter blared throughout the courtroom. Audrey absently flicked through her notes and ignored the glares she could feel burning a hole in the back of her skull by Frankie De Palma's family on the left side of the room._

 _"Lovely speech, Audrey," complimented her legal assistant, Lucy Vanderbilt. She took the papers out of her boss's hands and put them in a dark blue folder, placing it gently on their table. "They would be crazy not to commit him; he'll just end up killing someone else to get revenge on the Mariani family."_

 _Audrey was confident, too, that the jury would make the correct decision. "Here's hoping," she responded._

 _"Well, well, Ice Queen, how goes it in the land of the frigid?"_

 _Audrey put on the biggest smile she could muster as she turned to the side to look at the man that had spoken. "Why, hello, Damian! Wonderful day, isn't it? Do tell me, how's your wife these days?"_

 _The eyes of Damian O'Connell, Frankie De Palma's defense attorney, narrowed. He sniffed in distaste, looking down at her from over the hook of his nose. "She's fine."_

 _She shook her head, giving him a sideways glance. "That's not what I heard. The poor dear and I actually had a chance to talk when I made the trip down to Los Angeles for the LA Fire Department benefit a few months ago. She told me all about your," Audrey leaned forward and mock whispered, "'little problem' in the bedroom. She was so distraught; said she was wondering if I would think about drawing up some divorce papers for her. But on a completely unrelated topic, I **also** heard about how much she was getting along with your new pool boy. What was his name? Antoine?"_

 _To her surprise, his lips twitched into a smile. "At least I'm getting more in the bedroom than you are and probably ever will. How was your last date back in the stone ages?"_

 _Audrey fanned herself dramatically. "Oh, goodness, you've got me! Good one, Damian." She shot a look that said 'Get a load of this guy' to Lucy, who covered her smile with her hand. "Now," she waved him away, "go run along back to your client. Might as well give him a bit of polite conversation since he's going to spend the rest of his days rotting in a jail cell."_

 _Without a word, Damian turned around and retook his seat next to his client. If glares could kill, she would be on the floor dead a thousand times over by now. Frankie De Palma was giving her one of the most vicious looks she had ever seen – a look that displayed nothing but pure hatred and rage._

 _"Men and their egos," mumbled Audrey, leaning back in her chair. She stretched her arms above her head, feeling the joints in her shoulders pop. "Always have to try to one-up a woman to make themselves feel better."_

 _"I don't know," Lucy responded thoughtfully, tapping her finger against her chin. "I know a few men that aren't like that."_

 _"Sweetheart, I only know two men in the world that aren't like that, and they're only good people because I raised them to be good people. I've learnt a lot through my life and one thing I know for certain is that all men are the same: ignorant, rude, egotistical, and completely horrid. If you think otherwise, all it means is that they're better at hiding it than others."_

 _Lucy shrugged, shifting in the uncomfortable wooden chair. "You have a very negative view of the world."_

 _"Hard not to," Audrey admitted, "I've seen the worst of humanity many times, but I don't think I've ever seen human beings at their best. It's a shame, but you learn to deal with the bad and take the good as it comes, no matter how rarely."_

 _"Maybe you should –"_

 _A deep tenor voice interrupted the conversation, catching the attention of everyone in the room, "All rise for the Honorable Judge Darren Scott."_

 _"That was fast," muttered Audrey, giving a glance to her friend before standing with the rest of the room as the judge sat back on his bench._

 _"Well the evidence was so stacked against him, what other decision could they make?" Lucy asked quietly as they sat back down for a second time._

 _The jurors trudged themselves back in, each of them with varying looks of nervousness and hesitation._

 _"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asked Judge Scott._

 _"We have, Your Honor," said one juror who had remained standing. He looked at a piece of paper in his hands, cleared his throat, and started reading. Lucy crossed her fingers. "On the several counts charged against him, we of the jury find Mister Frankie De Palma guilty of all charges."_

 _Her heart soared as silence fell over the room. **Yes**!_

 _" **No**!" screamed De Palma, turning to look at Audrey accusingly. " **You bitch! You did this; this is all your fault**!" Several police officers rushed forward, attempting to restrain him, " **You whore, I'm going to fucking kill you**!"_

 _The room erupted in chaos._

 _oOo_

The next day brought with it a small sprinkling of rain that started in the very early hours of the morning – and I would know, considering the fact that I had barely slept through the night – and continued throughout the rest of the day. I wasn't bothered, though; I had determinedly gotten up that morning with a newfound spring in my step, eager to start the day off on a happy and bright note.

But as the day went by and I found myself on the front porch of the Uley household with Emily's freshly cleaned dish in hand, staring up at the dreary gray sky, I realized that the day wasn't going to start off on a good note – not in the slightest. A good day would have been sleeping until noon on silk sheets, waking up to find a four course meal already cooked and waiting for me at the kitchen table. This day involved getting out of bed at five in the morning because I was unable to sleep, assigning Isaac and Luke painting duty in the kitchen (which, in retrospect, may not have been the best idea I've ever had), and heading over to the house of a complete stranger to return a glass bowl.

There wasn't any doubt in my mind that I would rather be anywhere but there at that moment.

I knew I was being a bit unfair; I didn't know anything about Emily Uley and she sure as hell didn't know anything about me. There was just a part of me that was hesitant to be around anyone at all – or to even get close to anyone here – but I couldn't fault Emily for something that was just paranoia on my part.

None of it mattered, anyway. It was much too late to turn back.

The wooden door swung open to reveal an expectant and grinning Emily; I obviously wasn't whom she had been expecting, for her grin faded into a confused smile and her eyebrows furrowed. She still looked happy to see me, if a bit surprised. "Katherine!" she exclaimed, opening the door wider and stepping aside. "What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in!"

"Oh, I can't stay –" I started to protest as I was ushered into the house, but Emily was a woman who didn't take 'no' for an answer. I let her drag me into the room, still clutching the bowl in my hands so hard that I thought it would break. It was a struggle to make myself relax in an unfamiliar place, even though I knew that Emily meant well; I had absolutely nothing to fear here.

Emily's house was small and quaint, filled with a cluster of old wooden furniture, little figurines, and knick-knacks. It was a cute place, homey and warm, obviously well loved and taken care of with tender hands. It wasn't much but enough for someone who valued the simple things in life, judging by the various pictures that were scattered across the room and the succulent aroma that seeped through the air.

At the kitchen table sat another Quileute girl, my age or maybe a year or two younger – 22 or 23, maybe. She had gentle though broad facial features, bright white teeth, and long straight hair that seemed common to the female members of the tribe that I had met so far. She absently twirled a simple diamond ring around on her finger as though she weren't fully used to it being there, and looked up at my entrance into the kitchen.

"Katherine," Emily introduced, threading her arm through mine, "this is my friend, Kim Connweller. Kim, this is my new neighbor, Katherine Montgomery – the one I was telling you about earlier."

Kim nodded in acknowledgement, giving me a sideways smile. "It's very nice to meet you," she said sincerely, her voice soft. I could tell that she felt as uncomfortable as I did at meeting new people, but she did her best to hide it. "Emily told me that you've bought the house next door. How are you liking La Push so far?"

"As well as I could be, I suppose," I replied sincerely. "We – that is, my family and I – moved pretty last minute, so it was a hassle getting everything together and unpacked again. Not really used to the weather, either; it's very…" I grimaced. "Damp."

"Where are you from, originally?" Kim asked, while Emily pulled out one of the chairs and gestured for me to do the same.

I did so but hesitantly, my back stiff and sitting on the edge of my chair in anticipation of leaving for home at any moment. "New York," I lied, hoping that my words sounded legitimate and not too rehearsed. "I used to work as a curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art before I decided to move someplace quieter – I'm a… an author, so I wanted to go someplace that would give me a bit of inspiration."

"Oh, that sounds interesting," Emily complimented, cocking her head to the side in interest. "La Push is certainly full of history and inspirational stories." She gave a wry glance to Kim, the two sharing some conspiratorial grin. "What do you write about?"

Well that was a damn good question that I certainly wasn't prepared for. "Oh, you know," I drawled out, shifting awkwardly in my seat. "A little bit of everything; whatever I feel like writing that day, I suppose."

She opened her mouth to speak again but I gently cut her off.

"I'm so sorry, but as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I really can't," I apologized, passing the glass bowl over to Emily. "I left Aiden and Thomas with a bunch of paint in the kitchen and I don't want to leave them alone for too long in case they decide to have a paint fight and end up ruining my furniture in the process; I just wanted to come and return the bowl and thank you for the food – everything was delicious."

"Are you sure you can't stay for a while?" Emily questioned in disappointment, eyes wide and hopeful. "I was really hoping to get to know you better; it's really not often that we get new –"

A loud, hooting sound burst out from somewhere near the back of the house – a signal of some sort, I guessed. It was followed by the sound of husky male voices chatting back and forth, a combination of several different conversations happening at once.

Emily and Kim exchanged a glance, smiles appearing on both of their faces. "It's just the boys," Emily explained to me, seeing the puzzled and wary look on my face. "This house is basically a meeting place for a lot of the guys in La Push – has been for years."

Fantastic; Emily had some kind of male trafficking system going on in her own home (or something; I was probably wrong, but it was funny to imagine.) "I should probably go," I insisted for the second time, but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to move. I stayed firmly in my seat, glued to my spot by some unknown force until the backdoor swung open, slamming against the wall.

It was like the entire cast of the Chippendale's Male Revue had suddenly entered into the house. The amount of humongous, shirtless, and muscular men that crammed themselves into Emily's already cramped kitchen should have been against fire codes – I was pretty sure that it wasn't safe for so many people to be in one place at one time, but Emily and Kim seemed right at home.

"Hey, Em –"

"Something smells good –"

"I hope that's for us –"

"You're an idiot – of course it's for us!"

"Well it isn't like Emily hasn't ever withheld food from us before!"

"Hey, it's the crazy lady from the store!"

Silence.

My expression must have went from uneasy to suspicious and startled when my eyes shot upward to find who had spoken. As it turned out, it was one of the men from the hardware store; (Quil, if I remembered correctly.) Next to him stood the other boy, Embry, who was staring at me in surprise, before his entire body tensed and his eyes flickered toward someone else – a person who was staring at me with such a terrifying mix of aching misery and rage that it made me internally wince.

Paul.

Bile formed at the back of my throat as I shot to my feet, the chair legs screeching against the surface of the floor as I pushed back my chair and tried not to cause a scene. "Like I said before, Emily, thanks for the food but I need to get back home. Right now."

"Hey, wait a second –"

Suddenly _he_ appeared in front of me faster than should have been humanly possible; his hand grabbed onto my arm with surprising force, and he pulled me to a halt in the middle of Emily's kitchen.

Burning fury and blind panic flashed inside my skull, heart thumping so harshly within my chest that I was sure everyone else in the room could hear it. His grip on my skin wasn't tight but it still felt like it stung, sending a shiver up my arm and down my spine.

Years of self-defense training that I had taken in college automatically kicked in, and I twisted my arm out of his grasp, brought up my knee, and kicked him in that wonderful weak spot that every man has – hard enough to be sure I had seriously affected his ability to ever have children.

If the situation had been different, I would have laughed at his expression: mouth open in an 'O' shape of surprise, lines around his eyes tight from physical pain as he fell to his knees in front of me and let out a short, choking cough.

He was still significantly tall on his knees, reaching to just under my chest. I bent down so I was eye level with him and threateningly hissed, "Don't you ever grab me without my consent again because I can promise that you won't come out unscathed."

And with that, I pushed away from him and out the door to my car, not bothering to look back at the faces that I could feel burning holes in the back of my head.

oOo

Words were unable to describe the full extent of my conflicted emotions.

After running out of the Uley household like my ass was on fire and speeding out of their yard fast enough to leave tire tracks on the gravel, dust and dirt rising into the air around my truck, I hauled ass back to my own home, pale and breathless.

Oh, my God.

I had just kicked a very intimidating, scary-looking, and attractive man – someone who could probably kill me with a single punch – in the balls.

 _Oh, my God._

I spent the rest of my day throwing myself into painting, hoping to distract myself with something mindless, but it didn't work as well as I hoped it would have. Isaac kept sending me strange, sideways glances as we worked, making hinting comments that told me he wanted to know what was going on, but I kept my mouth shut. No need to get him worked up – or worse, hear him scold me for not 'blending in' or for 'kicking people in the balls and potentially put us in danger at the hands of an angry psycho looking for revenge.'

But what was I supposed to do? It was a knee-jerk reaction! If the man didn't want to get kicked in the nuts, then he shouldn't have gotten grabby.

I sat up from my reclined position on my bed and walked over to the window, shoving it open in an attempt to get away from the stifling air that had suddenly filled up my room. I wiggled my bare feet against the cold floor, closing my eyes as I breathed in the cool night wind. I wondered whether or not it would have been a good idea to just cut our losses and head back to D.C. despite the danger. Surely it had to be better being there than having to deal with the overly friendly people and the psychopaths that made up the population of this town, right?

The memory of the aftermath of scorching heat and flames licking up brick walls quickly pushed any thought of returning to D.C. out of mind. I sighed, leaning my head against the window frame in exhaustion.

A low howl came from somewhere in the distance, sounding a little too close for me to be entirely too comfortable. It sounded like a wolf; one of the creatures that Luke had insisted had kept him awake the first night here. Something about the sound drew my eyes toward the long line of trees that were yards away from my bedroom window.

There, almost invisible from where he was nestled between two oak trees, was a huge wolf.

Frozen in my spot, my fingers curled against the wood of the windowsill. He, and I only assumed it was a he, had eyes that glowed like a beacon in the darkness. I stared blatantly and he stared right back at me, apparently having had his attention drawn as I opened the window. The creature was beautiful and regal, so big that at first glance I thought he was a bear; but no, it was most certainly a wolf. His fur was dark silver, and though his coat seemed to be matted with dirt, he looked soft, as if my fingers would be able to run straight through without issue.

Intrigued and awed, I watched as it suddenly threw back its head and howled – the sound long and low and sad. It was a heart-breaking howl, as if the wolf was in physical pain - so much so that it made my heart pang harshly against my rib cage.

It then sat back on its haunches, never taking its eyes off of mine.

Behind me, the bedroom door swung open and hit the wall behind it.

I jumped nearly a foot in the air, whirling around on my heel to face Luke while my hand clutched at my chest in an attempt to soothe my startled heart. I relaxed almost immediately, running a hand over my eyes. Turning away from the window, I kneeled in front of him. "What are you doing awake, sweetheart?" I questioned. "Couldn't sleep?"

"The wolf is really loud, mommy," he said, tiredly rubbing his eyes with his free hand. "What if it comes and eats us?"

I tsked, picking him up in my arms and carrying him over to the bed. "Oh, sweet boy, wolves can't open doors. How could he come in and eat you?"

"He can jump through the window."

I rolled my eyes, tucking him under the blankets. "Did Aiden tell you that? Because it isn't true, but you can sleep with me tonight just in case, okay?"

Another howl came from the woods, and we both glanced toward the window. After the sound had faded through the air, Luke whispered softly, clutching at the blankets and Mr. Hoppy, "Why do you think he sounds so sad?"

I pushed a few strands of black hair away from his face, gently pushing him back into the pillows. "I don't know, sweetie, sometimes wolves howl when they're away from their pack or if they're upset about something."

"What's a pack?"

"It's like their family," I explained as he blinked blearily up at me. "A pack is the people they spend their time with. They travel with other wolves like themselves, but sometimes a wolf gets lost from the pack."

He nodded thoughtfully and closed his eyes. For several moments he was still and silent so I assumed he had fallen asleep. I stood and moved swiftly to the window with every intention of shutting it, but I couldn't help when my eyes traveled back to where the wolf had been only moments before. He had disappeared.

"Mommy?"

The window clicked as it fell shut. "Yeah, baby?"

"I think he's sad because he lost his family, like you said before," he murmured sleepily. "Because I know that if I lost you then I would be really sad, too."

"Well, you don't ever have to worry about that," I urged seriously, "Because I'll never let you get lost. And on the off chance that you do, I'll always find you."

"Do you think the wolf will find his family again?" he inquired in that way that five-year olds always do when they think adults have all the answers.

"I don't know, hon."

He cuddled into my side when I climbed into the bed. "I hope he does."

As I curled into my pillows, I glanced toward the window one last time. "Yeah, I hope so, too."

oOo

 _ **Next time:** Insight into Paul's life and a confrontation in Audrey's front yard._

 _NOTE: If you see that I mixed up the names, please let me know where so I can fix it!_

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	4. The Unwanted Confrontations in the Yard

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oOo

Chapter 4:

" _I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I've led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I've loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough." – Nicholas Sparks,_ _The Notebook_

If there was anything that Paul Lahote's father had managed to ingrain into his son's subconscious, it was that hard work was the key to a clear mind. At the moment, Paul thought that this was a complete load of shit, because no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't get _her_ out of his thoughts. _Her_ – the one woman he wanted more than anything in the world, but at the same time wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

Paul could still hear the tires of her truck spinning on the gravel as she sped onto the highway, eager to get as far away from him as humanly possible. It had been a shock to see her sitting there in Emily's kitchen, looking completely ill at ease but still being conversational. He had been surprised to see her at first – a bittersweet sort of surprised – though that had been quickly replaced with the rattled emotions that had haunted him for several days.

To be honest, Paul didn't know what to feel.

" _That was awesome!_ " Leah had blurted out in amused glee after a moment of dead silence in Emily's kitchen. " _Holy shit,_ I thought you guys were exaggerating, but she literally just kicked him in the balls, threatened him, then ran away!" Another loud, almost hysterical laugh left her lips. "I _like_ her!"

That had been almost five days ago; his crotch still ached at the thought.

"I had a feeling I would find you out here." The deep voice of Sam Uley penetrated his aggravated thoughts, unwelcome and unbidden in his time of misery and self-hatred.

Paul looked up to the garage entrance from the power saw he was working with to see Sam staring at him expectantly. "What do you want, Sam?" he inquired bitterly, placing the saw on a nearby workbench as he reached for a rag to wipe his hands to clear them of sawdust and wood varnish. "If you're here to give me a lecture then don't bother; I'm not in the mood and frankly, I'm not a teenager anymore – I don't want to hear it."

Sam just shrugged. "I'm not here to give a lecture, nor am I a parent in a position to give you one," his lips curved upward into a smile, his thoughts obviously straying toward his pregnant wife. "Well, I'm not a father _yet_ ; speaking of which, the crib looks great."

Paul glanced back toward the project that he had been working on in an attempt to focus on something productive – it hadn't worked, but he had managed to get a lot done on his gift to Sam and Emily for the new baby; well, a gift for Emily, since Sam already knew about it. "There are still a few things I need to fix," he commented, running his hand along the border of the crib. "Put the barriers on it and all that; has Emily decided on what color?"

"She's still leaning toward white for the baby furniture, so I would go with that," Sam replied, taking a seat on an old stool in the corner. "It's getting harder to make excuses as to why I shouldn't buy a crib; she's starting to get suspicious."

"At this rate, it'll be done soon," he reassured, getting onto his knees with a carving knife in his hands. Ignoring Sam's presence, he went to work digging a specific pattern into the leg of the handmade crib.

"Good. I don't like lying to her."

"It's not lying," he replied. "It's stalling."

"And you would know all about that, wouldn't you?"

He resisted the urge to chuck the carving knife at his friend's head. Anger flashed through his skull as he let out a deep breath through his nose, not even glancing up from his work. "Don't go there, Sam. Not now."

"I'm surprised at you, Paul," Sam commented, eyes narrowing. "You aren't stupid, so why are you trying to torture yourself?"

"I'm not torturing myself."

"You look like absolute shit," Sam shot back. "When was the last time you slept in the past week?"

"I sleep every night," he responded blankly; it wasn't a lie, either. He _did_ sleep every night. Just not for long, and usually not in his own bed.

"Of course you have," Sam responded blandly. "Let me rephrase – when was the last time you slept more than two hours in your own bed, and not outside of her house in the trees, hiding like a coward?"

Paul's jaw clenched, but he kept his mouth shut.

"That's what I thought."

Finally, Paul tossed down his tools and turned to face his Alpha. "Well what do you want me to fucking do, Sam? Not only am I stuck with a frigid, bitchy imprint who has expressly stated that she doesn't want anything to do with me – as if the kick in the balls wasn't enough of a hint – now I have to live with the knowledge that, as _always_ , the universe has decided that it hates me and it needed to fuck up something that was supposed to be as smooth-sailing as an imprint. So excuse the fuck out of me if I want to wallow in my own self pity for a while."

"It couldn't be without its obstacles," Sam said sagely, obviously trying to assert what he thought was wisdom onto his friend. "Besides, you're just as much to blame for being an asshole when you first met her. And you shouldn't have grabbed her, either."

Suddenly, it felt like all of the energy had drained out of Paul's body, and he weakly ran a hand over his face. "I didn't want to imprint in the first place, but then I get dragged into the 'hopeless hearts' club with the rest of you and it turns out that –" he cringed. "She hates me. I don't want anything to do with her, but at the same time I don't want to be away from her. I don't want to care about her, but I do anyway. I don't want it to hurt as much as it does, but it literally feels as though my heart wants to rip out of my chest – and I can't do anything about it. This fucking sucks."

"If I ask you a question," Sam interrupted suddenly, "I need to know that you won't attack me when I ask it."

Paul frowned. "Go for it."

"What are you more upset with? The fact that you imprinted, or the fact that she has a kid that isn't yours? Or is it because you're just worried that you're going to end up like your own father?"

Paul's nails dug into his palm as he resisted the urge to tell his friend to 'Fuck off.' His thoughts flew to the young curly-haired boy he had seen that day in the store that… _the woman_ had shielded with her own body; the boy that Emily had later confirmed was the woman's son. A hot slice of rage and jealousy went up his spine at the knowledge that his imprint had been intimate with someone else, but Paul pushed those thoughts away and decided to focus in on the last part of Sam's question. "You have no right to judge me about asshole fathers, Uley."

Sam wasn't fazed at the implications in Paul's statement; he shrugged, cocking his head to the side. "I'm not judging. I'm saying that I've been where you are, so I have a pretty good idea of what you're feeling right now."

"No, you don't know what I'm feeling," Paul shot back, rising to his feet to stare down his Alpha. "I never wanted this to happen in the first place and I never knew if it would. I figured, 'hey, why not just enjoy myself because it probably won't ever happen and if it does, it probably won't be for a long time, right? And whoever the woman is going to be will be perfect for me – gorgeous, untainted… everything I've ever wanted in a girl. No rush, she'll want me no matter what I do.' But then it happens and it turns out that she's an unreasonable and absolutely crazy bitch that already has a kid and is probably married."

Paul regretted the words as soon as they shot out of his mouth. Sam merely raised an eyebrow. "So that's what you're worried about? The fact that she might be married? Emily said she never saw a wedding ring –"

"But that doesn't mean anything, does it?" Paul interrupted. "It doesn't mean she isn't."

"And you know, calling her a crazy bitch is a bit of a stretch," Sam continued as though Paul hadn't even spoken. "You aren't exactly the most unintimidating person in the world, Paul. You grabbed her and she was scared. She seems to be a strong and independent person so she was probably just defending herself against what she thought was a threat."

"A threat. Right. My imprint being terrified of me is just the thing to make me feel better. Thanks for that," Paul stated sarcastically. "Don't you have someone else to annoy right now? Like your heavily pregnant wife due to give birth at any second?" he hinted, staring pointedly at the exit.

And then Sam said the worst thing he could have possibly said, but it did exactly what he intended: it got Paul's utmost attention. "By acting like this, you're doing exactly what you didn't want – being like your father."

Something behind Paul's eyes flashed and Sam knew that he had hit a sensitive nerve. It was a low blow, yes, but it got the job done. "My father was an abusive, manipulative bastard," he said, his voice low and bordering on dangerous. "I am _nothing_ like him."

"Then prove it," Sam urged, his voice quiet though bursting with power and authority. "You're torturing yourself and trying to make excuses to stay away from her because you're scared of being shot down. Here's a thought: why not try to be her friend instead of acting like an ass? You're just being stubborn because you didn't want to imprint."

"I've barely even _spoken_ to her!" Paul threw up his hands in exasperation. "Why am I being portrayed as the bad guy here? And you know what, so what if I _am_ being stubborn? Why is it such a crime that I want to have a life to myself and not be tied down?"

"If you think that an imprint is something that ties you down, then you really have no idea what an imprint even _is._ " Sam's words were so assured that Paul felt himself starting to believe him – after all, he had never had an imprint until now, and even though he wasn't any different physically, the effects had taken a mental toll on him.

"Like I'm not tied down," Paul scoffed. "I can't even think of another woman without _her_ invading my thoughts."

"Do you even want to?" Sam asked. "Think of other woman, I mean? Do you really want to be with anyone but her?"

This made Paul pause, and he realized that ever since the imprint, he hadn't even _thought_ of another woman – nor did he find himself _wanting_ to think of another woman, either. The spirits had certainly outdone themselves on one thing – she _was_ gorgeous. Thick, dark, and curly hair with creamy, flawless skin, though dark shadows had surrounded her otherwise bright green eyes. She was the kind of person that would warrant a second glance in any situation, and Paul knew that he had looked once and now he would never get the chance to look away.

Now he was stuck – alone, angry, both emotionally and physically frustrated, and hating himself for being stubborn and an asshole. There he was – stuck in his own life with an imprint that hated him.

God, life really sucked.

"And her name is Katherine, Paul. You might as well get used to saying it."

Paul flinched at hearing that name aloud, even though it had been running through his head for days. Every nerve ending in his body wanted him to head out the door to see her, but he resisted, turning away from Sam and back toward the crib. "Get out of my garage, Sam. I'm done talking to you about this."

Sam stared for several seconds, but Paul stood his ground. Figuring that this was not the time for a fight, Sam raised his hands in defense. "Fine." He agreed, heading toward the exit. Before he left, he stopped and turned. "Just for the record, if you're feeling this bad right now, you can assume that she's feeling pretty terrible, too. The longer you stay away from her, the worse it will get for the both of you. Do you really want to cause her that much pain?"

And then the Alpha left without waiting for an answer, leaving Paul alone with his thoughts.

Deep down, he knew that this would be easier if things were different. If he wasn't so angry, if he had a different perspective on imprinting and relationships – he had to thank his parents for his shitty track record with the relationships part – if he wasn't so frustrated with himself and his lot in life, and if the imprint would have turned out like all the others. If all of these things had happened, maybe things would have been different – would have been _easier._

But they weren't. Things didn't turn out the way he wanted. He was born into a situation that he had to deal with as best as he could – and he had dealt with it quite spectacularly up until that moment – but now things had changed. An unforeseen obstacle had thrown itself into Paul's life and now he had to adapt.

But how? He wasn't sure.

All that he knew at that moment was that he had two choices: One, to stay where he was and wallow in his own self-pity, or two, to head over to officially introduce himself to Katherine and try to give her some semblance of a half-assed apology.

Neither option seemed very appealing, but the thought of seeing Katherine again completely tipped the odds in her favor.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself in the silence of his shed, "I am _so_ fucked."

oOo

There was a time in my childhood where I caught chicken pox at the same time that I caught some sort of horrid stomach virus from one of the kids in my second-grade class. I had spent a week trapped in my bed, alternating between scratching my itchy skin and throwing up into a nearby garbage can. Up until now I believed that it was the worst sickness I had ever experienced, but of course I was proven wrong, as I had been so often lately.

And this time, I didn't even know what was _wrong_ with me.

Sleep decided to elude me – I hadn't slept more than a few hours in almost five days and a searing pain in my chest near my heart had appeared and hadn't gone away. An uncooperative headache had pounded its way into my skull and hadn't disappeared or lessened in almost three days, no matter how much medication I took.

But I was never one to back down despite the pain I was feeling for no apparent reason. Instead, I threw myself into my work – finishing the painting, setting up the new faucets in the house, rearranging furniture, and unpacking the last of the boxes… It worked as a distraction - for a while, at least. Then when I'd least expect it, the pain would return again.

I hadn't been this wired since I was in law school – it had been a time when I realized that it was quite possible for caffeine to be considered my third blood cell. With shaking hands I pulled weeds from the garden surrounding the house, half-heartedly enjoying the beautiful gray morning that arrived after a long and persistent rain. While it wasn't bright and sunny and cheerful, the calm tranquility of the dark sky was something I had come to enjoy over the last few days – at least the sky understood what kind of crabby mood I was in.

As did Isaac. The poor boy had started walking on eggshells around me, unsure as to what was wrong but knowing that he sure as hell didn't want to get in the crossfire of my agitation and ill attitude. I felt awful for acting the way I was – and I'm sure that Luke could tell that something was wrong, as well - but for some reason I couldn't help myself or change my crabby attitude, as if I had suddenly become a slave to my emotions.

I sat back on my heels, dusting a bit of dirt from my hands. Gardening was a relaxing and tranquil task – not one that I had been able to do often at the apartment in D.C., but I found myself enjoying my mission of digging in the dirt a lot more than I had originally expected. I examined a growing wildflower with a critical eye, forcefully pulling it up from the ground by its roots.

As it turned out, my wish for something to make me feel completely better came moments later, but I didn't realize that it was actually a solution – or really, a salve - to my problem until much later. So lost was I in my task, I didn't even hear the light footsteps that came walking up behind me – not until I heard the rough grumble of someone clearing their throat.

I let out an admittedly embarrassing shriek of surprise that I would never live down as I accidentally jolted myself backwards, falling harshly onto the dirt. I groaned in pain, head spinning at the sudden movement, while my eyes blinked toward the figure leaning over me with a slightly panicked and apologetic expression on his face.

My eyes narrowed, and I pushed myself off of the dirt and into a standing position, shoving aside his outstretched hand that was going to help me to feet. Feeling a sudden sense of Déjà vu, I dusted myself off, cheeks burning, and snapped, "What the _hell_?"

He had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"Don't you know better than to sneak up on someone when their back is turned?" I continued, nerves still rattled from the surprise as I clutched my gardening trowel as though it were some sort of weapon.

The man that I had still not been formally introduced to, but knew as 'Paul,' let out a shaky sigh, as if he was holding back some great bout of anger or annoyance. Through clenched teeth, he said, "I didn't mean to startle you like that. Sorry, I thought you heard me come up behind you."

"Well obviously not," I shot back. Then I blinked, suddenly struck with the realization that he was close, _really_ close, and shirtless.

 _Oh, boy._

He had been shirtless at Emily's house, if I recalled correctly, but I had been so annoyed at the time that I had not been able to truly _look_ at him. My eyes trailed upward over his body of their own accord, lingering on his chiseled and naked chest. He raised an eyebrow at me, making me scowl. Just as handsome as he was the last time – though, I noted, he looked unkempt and tired – and his cocky attitude had not improved in the slightest.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I quickly asked, crossing my arms uncomfortably over my chest as I took a step away from him.

His eyes flickered downward at my feet as I stepped away, but he didn't comment. "I wanted to…" he grimaced and grit his teeth. "Apologize. And introduce myself properly since we didn't have the best introduction last time."

"Apologize?"

"For my recent behavior every time we see each other," he clarified. "I was having a… pretty rough day when we first met and I was – well, I didn't mean to grab you last time at Emily's and I just wanted to – "

I lifted a hand up to interrupt him, heart beating harshly against my rib cage. "Listen, buddy, I don't need an apology, nor do I want one. I don't care who you are or how bad of a day you're having; if you want to act like a freak then by all means, go right ahead. But having a bad day is no reason whatsoever to act like a jackass to other people – especially people you don't know."

He took a step forward and I took one back, hand automatically tightening around the gardening trowel I was holding. Paul looked frustrated at my actions. His eye twitched, and it sounded like he murmured something along the lines of, "I get stuck with the stubborn one." Then, louder for my ears to hear, "I'm –"

My eye twitched. "If you apologize again, I'm going to castrate you with my trowel," I threatened, pointing my tool at him. "I don't want an apology – you shouldn't have done what you did in the first place; just who the hell do you think you are?"

And that's when things got interesting.

His eyes narrowed at my standoffish attitude, and as if he wasn't able to help himself, he snapped, "Me? I'm standing here trying to apologize – you're the one being a holier-than-thou _bitch_. What the hell is _your_ problem?"

I glared, veins turning to ice. " _You are my problem!_ " I shouted, not caring who heard the rant that was slowly rising to the surface of my skin. "You act like an ass to me at the hardware store, grab and _manhandle_ me at Emily's, and seem to have some sort of problem with me even though I have never done anything to you. You've made yourself my problem and trust me, when people become a _problem_ in my life, I fix it."

A jolt seemed to go through his entire body, hands shaking and skin vibrating like he was having some sort of seizure. He opened his mouth to respond with a snappy retort, eyes flashing dangerously, but was interrupted at the last second as the front door of the house swung open, drawing my attention to it.

Oblivious to the tension in the air, Isaac stuck his head out the door. "Sis, one of the light bulbs in the bathroom burnt out; do you have a spare or do we have to go to the store – why are you standing in the middle of the yard like that?"

"I was –" My eyes flashed back over to the spot where Paul had been only moments ago, but he had disappeared. The only evidence that he was even there were the two large imprints in the grass where he had been standing, but otherwise, there was no sign of him.

Confused and agitated, I took one long last glance out at the trees before following Isaac into the house to fix the light, feeling more upset and having more pain in my heart than I had been before.

oOo

 _ **Next Time:** A broken-down car, unwelcome help, and a surprising savior._

 _As always, five reviews and we'll continue with our regularly scheduled updates! The next update should be soon and the next chapter... WOO, it's a doozy._


	5. An Unlikely Hero in the Parking Lot

_I cannot express in words how much I love you guys. Your reviews, suggestions, and comments are absolutely wonderful!_

oOo

Chapter 5:

" _All my life, my heart has sought a thing I cannot name." – Hunter S. Thompson,_ _Hell's Angels: A Strange and Terrible Saga_

I feel as though it's highly important for me to mention that I know absolutely nothing about cars.

Now, in normal circumstances, this might not be such a big deal. Most people can easily spot and identify different car brands when they saw their symbols on the streets, myself included, but the highlight of my knowledge of cars was being able to know the difference between the engine and the steering wheel, which honestly didn't say much about me.

My lack of knowledge about cars never seemed to be a problem. When there was something wrong with my vehicle, I would bring it back to the dealership and they would have it fixed for me in no time at all. Sure, it was pricey, and I wouldn't have been surprised if I had been overcharged more than once, but the job was done when I needed it to be and I never really had any huge problems with a vehicle.

That is, until now.

Several days later, on what would be the day of my third run-in with Paul, the morning started out absolutely terrible and just seemed to get worse as the day passed. My morning started a little after six, having been awoken out of a dead slumber by Luke calling out for me from the upstairs bedroom. Dragging myself out of bed and up the stairs, I poked my head into his room.

His face was pale and he looked slightly green. "Mommy," he had moaned, sounding utterly miserable with red eyes and stuffy nose. "I don't feel good."

Then he proceeded to throw up over the side of his bed.

At around noon he took a turn for the worse, as did the weather.

Softly murmuring words of comfort as he tossed up the contents of his stomach into the nearby garbage can, I gently stroked his hair back from his sweaty forehead and looked miserably out at the lightning that was flashing across the sky, sighing when thunder rocked the house.

"It's probably some 24-hour bug that's going around," I murmured to Isaac once Luke had fallen into an uneasy sleep, digging in the cabinet for an energy bar or something to snack on to hold me over until I could make something substantial. "I just wish that I had something to give him for his stomach."

"So he just has to live with it until it goes away?" Isaac asked. "Sounds like a shitty deal to me."

I wholeheartedly agreed, but there wasn't much that I could do at the moment. My first instinct was to take him immediately to a doctor, especially since he didn't seem to be getting any better, but as I glanced out the kitchen window to the rain that was coming down in horrible waves and crashing against the glass, I realized that taking him out in this weather would probably just make him feel worse.

A crack of thunder rumbled outside as if to punctuate my thoughts. Chewing on my bottom lip in hesitation, I glanced up at the ceiling to Luke's room as if I could see straight through the floor. I needed to do _something;_ I couldn't just let him sit there and suffer, and I sure as hell couldn't bring him somewhere.

I was left with only one option.

Sighing in frustration, I turned to Isaac. "I'm going to have to run to the store and get something to settle his stomach – children's medicine or some ginger ale or something. Do you think you can hold down the fort until I get back?"

His eyebrows shot up. "You're going out in that weather? Not really the best idea you've ever had. What if you get in a wreck or something?"

I waved away his concerns, snatching up my keys from where they waited patiently on top of the kitchen table. "I don't really have any other choice. I won't be long," I reassured him as I headed toward the door and grabbed my coat. "If he wakes up, just go and sit with him for a while – maybe rub his back if his stomach still hurts."

Isaac frowned, carefully watching me as I grimaced at the rain. "Please just be careful."

All of this eventually led me to my current predicament.

The ride to the store through the rain and the storm had gone as smoothly as could be expected, despite the horrible weather that made it difficult to see through the windshield. I had entered the parking lot, unconsciously giving the hardware store a wide berth as I drove, scowled, and finally made a mad dash to the store entrance.

Running through the building looking like a partially drowned rat, I easily managed to find crackers, water, ginger ale, some canned chicken soup for when his stomach settled enough to eat, and two different types of medicine to lower Luke's fever and help with his stomach cramps. The cashier had raised an amused brow at my soaked and disheveled appearance, but at my subsequent glare, she kept her mouth shut.

No, the problem didn't really come until after I had tossed my merchandise into the backseat and stuck the car key into the ignition.

 _The truck wouldn't start._

"Oh, please no," I said aloud to myself in the silence of the truck, absolutely horrified. "Oh, _God,_ no, no, please, this cannot be happening right now. Not now, _please not now!_ " I let out a low whine that was completely uncharacteristic of my personality right as my head fell against the steering wheel. A loud beep sounded as I accidentally honked the horn, making me jump and nearly slam my head against the roof. "This has to be some sort of horrible nightmare."

I stared miserably out at the rain before bracing myself and shoving open the car door, making my way around to the hood. My clothes became heavy and drenched, nothing more than a burden that slowed my movements and made me shiver. Letting out a noise that was somewhere in between a huff and a growl, I tied my messy hair back and eyed the complicated machinery in misery, unsure as to what I should do.

 _See,_ I hissed to myself, mourning the memory of my previous car – a very expensive and _trustworthy_ silver Bentley that had never broken down on me or refused to start. _This is why I always bought reliable cars instead of crappy rust-buckets like this one._

My first instinct was to call someone, but did I have any phone numbers to anyone that could potentially be my rescuer? I could have called Monique, but there wasn't any reliable chance that she would answer immediately; not that she would really be able to do anything since she was all the way on the other side of the country… I could give the police chief a ring – see if he could come and help me out of my predicament… Yeah, that would work. Just call the Chief of Police and have him send someone out to come and get me.

Digging my phone out of my back pocket and holding it under the car hood to shield it from the rain, I fiddled with it – _no service._

Tears of frustration prickled at the corners of my eyes as I resisted the urge to chuck my phone across the parking lot. "Seriously?" I shouted in anger at the sky in the mostly empty lot, my voice barely heard above the rain as I cursed whatever deity happened to be listening at the time for my rotten luck. "Like I haven't been through enough shit already, and now I have to be stranded in a parking lot in the middle of fucking _nowhere? Seriously?!_ "

"Car trouble?"

I let out a small shriek of shock, my heart nearly stopping. Whipping around to face my so called 'attacker,' I was annoyed – but somehow not the slightest bit surprised – to find that Paul Lahote was standing behind me, eyebrow raised and arms crossed over his chest, casually standing as though he wasn't currently being pelted with buckets of rain. "Oh, for the love of God," I groaned, pushing my hair away from my face. "I literally do not have the time, nor do I have the patience to deal with you right now. How the hell did you know I was here? Are you stalking me or something?"

The corners of his mouth turned downward and he gritted his teeth, like he was struggling to hold back a mean retort. "I didn't ask for the third degree. I was across the street picking up some parts for a project I was working on, and I was pretty interested when I saw a crazy lunatic screaming at the sky in the pouring rain. Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be you."

"Well, I really don't have time for your bullshit and I am _so_ not in the mood to deal with you right now so please just," I flicked my hand, gesturing for him to go back the way he had come. "Go away."

Some foreign emotion flashed behind his eyes but it was gone just as soon as it came. His short hair flopped onto his forehead, soaked with the cold rainwater, and he pushed it back with an aggravated hand. Little drops of water dripped down over his skin, trickling down off of the point of his nose and chin. "Look, lady, all I wanted was to see if you needed a hand with your truck," he stated angrily, turning to walk away and leave me stranded. "But if not, then I'll just –"

A snide voice in the back of my head screamed, " _It's either him or nothing. He's your only hope,_ " and before I could stop myself I was blurting out, "Wait!" He stopped, just as surprised as I was at my sudden outburst. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, feeling my cheeks heat. "I'm sorry," I begrudgingly apologized through clenched teeth, knowing that he was my only option at the moment – unless I wanted to spend the night in the rain. "I just – my car won't start and I don't know what's wrong with it, but I really need to get home because my… my son is really sick and I have to get back to make sure he's okay… It's just been a really shitty day," I finished lamely, drained, shoulder slumping.

He studied me carefully, eyebrow raised. For a moment we just stared at each other, not saying a word, and the only sound in the atmosphere was the rain crashing against the pavement. Just as I was about to tell him to 'forget it and fuck off,' he shook his head, and to my complete surprise, he chuckled. "Funnily enough, I seem to recall you telling me that having a shitty day was no excuse for a person to act like a jackass to someone they don't know."

 _Oh, that little –_ "You know what, never mind," I snapped, giving him a long look at my middle finger. "Fuck you, asshole. I don't have time for this. If you don't want to help then leave me the hell alone."

But he didn't leave. Instead, he rolled his eyes and approached until he was right in front of me – so close that I had to look up to meet his gaze and that I could see the drops of water on his eyelashes. Paul only glanced at me for half of a second before he turned to look at the engine. I huffed and turned away, not knowing or understanding any of the parts that he was fiddling with or if he was even helping or fixing it. For all I knew, he could have been making it worse, purposely stranding me out here. "It wouldn't start?" he asked, clarifying what should have been obvious at this point.

"No, it wouldn't," I grumbled. "I tried like four times."

"This isn't really my area, but I'm pretty sure it's the battery," he concluded, moving away from the engine and wiping his greasy hands on the bottom of his shirt, drawing my gaze to it. It was soaked through, clinging to his body like a second skin.

I turned my gaze away.

"I would give you a jump but," he nodded up toward the sky, raising his voice to speak above the gradually worsening rain. "It isn't really safe to be messing with electricity in this kind of weather."

I looked at him in disbelief. "What the hell am I supposed to do about my truck, then?"

"I have a friend who's pretty good with cars," he replied, shrugging. "I can talk to him – have him tow it to your house tomorrow once the rain lets up. He'll even replace the battery for you." He slammed the hood of the truck shut, the sound making me flinch. "As for _you…_ it looks like you're completely out of luck." He turned. "Unless you would suck up your pride and let me drive you home."

The situation was so surreal that it felt like it was straight out of a bad romance novel.

Unless I wanted to stubbornly sleep in my truck and risk freezing to death and getting hypothermia – or, the even less attractive option, attempt to _walk_ home – I knew that I had only one logical choice.

I was completely out of options and we both knew it.

"Fine," I ground out, teeth starting to chatter as I determinedly headed to the side of the car. "I have to get my bags –"

"I'll get them," he interrupted, tossing me a set of keys and nodding toward a large black Chevy truck waiting a few yards away. "You look like you're freezing; go and start the truck and I'll be there in a second."

I had a fleeting thought that this guy I barely knew was taking a hell of a chance just tossing a stranger the keys to his truck, but I guess that even if I would have taken my own little joyride, the asshole knew where I lived. Not bothering to argue with him, I took off with my hands attempting to – unsuccessfully - rub a bit of warm friction into my arms. I did as Paul asked and stuck the keys into the ignition, turning the heat on full blast.

I let out a shudder of relief as the cold air gradually became warm, blowing on my hands to thaw them out of their icy stiffness. Paul returned only seconds later, shoving my bags in the backseat before climbing in front of the wheel.

His truck seemed to only be a little older than mine, but his was obviously in better condition and well taken care of – not messy and almost completely devoid of clutter. The vehicle suited him – rough and worn and smelling of pine and something distinctly _man._ But, unlike my own truck, which was only gotten for the purpose of blending in to a new and rustic environment, his was obviously used with a purpose – a truck for a hard-working citizen that constantly worked with his hands.

Carefully stripping off my soaked jacket and tossing it to the floor near my feet, I pushed up the sleeves of the shirt to my elbows and stuck my hands toward the vents. The key around my neck fell out of my shirt and banged against my skin, the metal nearly freezing.

Paul's sudden movements made my eyes flash over to him, but he did nothing but reach into the backseat, eyes still completely focused on the road. He pulled back, having found what he was looking for – an extremely old and ratty sweatshirt reading 'La Push High Wolves.' "Here," he said, handing it to me. "Not as good as a blanket and it'll be pretty big on you, but it'll keep you warm."

"You aren't cold?" I suspiciously inquired, slightly incredulous as I suddenly realized that he was dressed only in a shirt and tan cargo shorts.

I hesitantly took the sweatshirt in my hands as he replied, "No, not really; I don't get cold easily."

In any other situation I would have been stubborn enough to toss the sweatshirt back where it came from without a second thought, but this wasn't any other situation. I quickly slipped the clothing over my head and pushed my arms through the sleeves, swallowed by the thick fabric as I pulled it down, watching in wry amusement as it practically reached my mid-thigh. It smelled the same way as the truck – woodsy and musky.

I sniffled, nose cold and probably red from the rain and crisp air.

"So…" he started after a heavily uncomfortable beat of silence. "Do you know what's wrong with him? Your…" he swallowed, "son?"

"He's sick," I responded blandly, shoving up the sleeves of the sweatshirt to free my hands.

"Yeah," Paul replied, his voice just as blank. "You said that. I meant, do you know why he's sick?"

"No," I shook my head, hesitating only seconds before continuing. "I think it might be some 24-hour virus that's going around – hopefully he'll be better by tomorrow afternoon, but if not I'll have to take him to the doctor…" I paused, rubbing my eyes. "Which I won't be able to do because I don't have a truck. Fantastic."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Paul did his best to reassure me. "Your…" he swallowed, utterly tense and sounding a bit bitter as he shifted in his spot. " _Husband_ doesn't have a car to bring you?"

Oh, there it was. The inevitable question – you have a kid, are you married? I thought it was funny how this guy actually thought he was smooth. I saw through it, though, enough to know exactly what he was asking. Ladies man, my ass. "I'm not married," I stated simply, leaning my head against the window. "All I have are Thomas and my brother, Aiden."

It seemed like a heavy weight had lifted off of Paul's shoulders – his stiff posture became a bit more relaxed, and his tight grip on the steering wheel lessened. He opened his mouth to comment but I cut him off before he could respond.

"I don't date," I continued swiftly. "Just, you know, for the record."

He frowned. "You don't… like, at all?"

I nodded. "At all."

It looked as if there was something on the tip of his tongue that he really wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, he changed the subject back. "Well if you need a ride to bring him to the doctor I would be more than happy to give you my phone number – I could give you a ride since you don't have one."

"I'll pass; I'm sure we'll manage. Like I said he'll probably be better by tomorrow morning." _I hope. Otherwise I really will have to take him to the doctor – somehow._

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I turned to stare out the window, barely able to see several feet in front of us because of the heavy rain. Paul appeared to be unbothered, navigating through the weather like a professional.

"That doesn't seem like your type of vehicle," he commented suddenly, glancing over at me. "Too old-fashioned for you."

"Maybe I'm an old fashioned person," I replied haughtily. "Maybe I like vintage vehicles."

"You don't strike me as the type."

"You're lucky I don't strike you upside the head," I muttered back.

"Why do you do that?" he asked curiously, not at all offended by my words. "Every time I ask you a simple question, you get evasive and defensive and you're always way too cynical. Plus, you're being awfully rude to someone who could easily dump you on the side of the highway in the pouring rain."

I awkwardly shifted in my seat, harshly biting the inside of my cheek. Taking a deep and bracing breath, I told him, "No, it isn't my type of vehicle. I'm more of the…" I hesitated before blandly continuing, "type to like a small car – something new and reliable."

"Why do you have the truck then?"

My nose wrinkled. "Would you believe me if I said that I traded in my own car and bought the truck in an attempt to fit in when I first moved here?"

He snorted, shaking his head at me. "That's kind of ridiculous."

I scoffed, mumbling, "Ridiculous is my life in a nutshell."

Silence.

"How are you liking it in La Push so far?"

It felt weird to be having a simple conversation with a man, let alone a man who I had threatened bodily harm to on more than one occasion. For some reason I felt myself compelled to be honest with him, but knew that I couldn't be, so I settled for half-truths. "It's okay, but I wish I was back home. This place… isn't like I thought it would be."

"It gets better once you get used to it. Emily told me you worked at a museum… in New York? I'm sure it's a lot different here," he pointed out. "You seem like you didn't want to move in the first place, so why did you?"

"You have no idea," I murmured. "I used to… I worked at the Met – the Metropolitan Museum of Art; it wasn't really my favorite thing to do in the world, so I decided I wanted to be someplace less hectic and write a book. Writing has always been one of my passions," I lied blankly. "This seemed as good a place as any to start – lots of history and culture… So I packed our things and we moved here."

Paul didn't seem to find anything wrong with my story, though. "A long way away from home."

"Sometimes it's too far," I softly murmured, more to myself than to him. "I miss it; I miss the sun, my few friends and colleagues, the fast paced atmosphere… the coffee-shops on every corner, the buildings, the history… I was born in," I paused, thinking back to my file, "Ohio, but my home was in New York. It always has been."

"Maybe you can make La Push your new home," he stated thoughtfully, shrugging a shoulder. "There isn't much in the way of fast-paced or the sun around here - and the nearest Starbucks is all the way in Port Angeles – but if it's history you're looking for, La Push certainly isn't lacking."

"Oh?" I asked half-heartedly.

"Yeah," Paul stated, the corner of his lip twitching upward a bit as he glanced over at me. There was a brief expression of heavy debate on his face, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared. "For example, did you know that… the Quileute people are supposedly descended from wolves?"

"Wolves," I repeated in slight disbelief, lips pursed as I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Wolves," he confirmed. "It's an old legend of the tribe. Supposedly, one of the first leaders of the Quileute tribe – his name was Taha Aki – was a skin-walker – a spirit warrior that could turn into a wolf. He protected the tribe from monsters – these… creatures called the Cold Ones. They –" He stopped then, as if he realized what he was saying and fully regretted saying it. "It's just a silly story that explains why the wolf is so important to the tribe, but you know what they say: most myths are based in truth."

"That's actually kind of interesting," I admitted, intrigued and being completely sincere. "These wolves – real wolves, I mean – I don't have to worry about any of them in the forest, do I?"

"They're perfectly harmless," Paul reassured me, shifting uncomfortably, but then his expression turned serious. "All the same, I wouldn't go traipsing around the woods if I were you, especially at night since there are tone of other things out there that are much more dangerous than the wolves – like mountain lions, for one – but on the off chance that you ever come across one of the wolves, it won't hurt you."

"Do they ever come really close to humans?"

Paul shifted again in his seat, as if he didn't like where my line of questions was going. "If one is curious enough, it might sniff around a house for a bit; usually they'll keep their distance."

"The reason I'm asking is because… there's just this…" I let my voice trail off for a bit, turning to stare out the window as if the wolf would just appear out of nowhere. "One of these wolves – it was so huge that I thought it was a bear at first – apparently has a fascination with my house." Rubbing my eyes, I continued, "I see him every once in a while, usually right before I go to sleep. He doesn't do anything; he just… sits right by the trees and sometimes stays there for hours. It's the strangest thing; incredible, but strange."

"The wolf won't hurt you," he assured me, and he sounded so confident that I had no choice but to believe him.

I felt something in the atmosphere shift, and it suddenly struck me what I was doing and who I was talking to at that moment. Even in Washington D.C., being alone in the presence of a man – especially one as intimidating as Paul – would make me defensive, angry, and terrified, but at that moment, all I felt was an overwhelming calm.

That feeling made me nervous.

Thankfully I didn't need to be nervous for long; we had just pulled up at the house.

I found that I didn't want to get out of the truck, but I told myself that it was because I didn't want to get out in the rain, not because I didn't want to leave Paul. There was no reason for me to want to stay with him – was there?

Of course not. Because that would just be stupid and positively preposterous.

"I'm sorry I kicked you in the nuts," I blurted out suddenly, hand on the door handle and ready to push it open. For some reason it was important to me that he heard my apology, though I wasn't sure why.

The sudden comment made him snort in laughter, eyebrow rising in surprise at my bluntness. "You're forgiven," he said with a smirk. "That wasn't the first time a gorgeous woman has kicked me in the balls, and I'm pretty sure that it won't be the last."

 _Gorgeous?_ I thought to myself, cheeks turning pink. I begrudgingly cleared my throat and said, "Thank you for bringing me home. It was… surprisingly kind of you."

"It wasn't a problem, honestly," he insisted. "I don't know what kind of conclusions you've made about me, but I'm not _that_ bad of a guy. I wouldn't have left you out in the cold like that."

"Other people would have," I found myself saying. "I know – used to know – a lot of people who would have just left me there without hesitation or guilt."

"Well, maybe you need to pay better attention to the company you keep."

My jaw clenched, but I held back any snappy retorts at his obvious dig to myself. "Like I said, it was really nice of you to bring me home – a good change of pace from your usual attitude – but I should really get inside so I can check on Thomas; and then get into some warm clothes and have a hot shower."

"Do you need me to help you bring in your stuff?" he offered.

I almost said yes; the word almost, _almost_ slipped out of my mouth before I could help myself, but I managed to hold my tongue and shake my head. "No, I can handle it."

For the second time I made to get out of the truck, but this time, he was the one who stopped me. "I know that we haven't really gotten off on the right foot every single time we've met, but I'm trying here, okay? I'm not used to…" he gestured in between the two of us. "Whatever this is."

I turned back to look him in the eye, doing my best to sound determined and strong despite the pain in my chest. "Well, that's good. Because there isn't any _this."_ I mimicked his gesture. "I'm not an idiot, you know. I heard you talking to your friends at the hardware store; if you're looking for someone to date, then look somewhere else. If you're looking for an easy lay, then you sure as _hell_ are looking in the wrong place. Just because I'm a single mother doesn't mean that I sleep around."

"Have I come onto you?"

I gave him a look.

"I'm serious," he argued sternly, not moving his gaze from mine. "I know I've had my moments where I've been pushy and an asshole – as I've been told many times in the last few days," he grimaced, and shook his head, "but give me one instance where I've come onto you – one instance where I propositioned you or made you think that my intentions were anything less than honorable."

I opened my mouth to say a snappy retort but realized I couldn't. He was right. Sure, he had been an asshole and annoying and crude – which he had just self-proclaimed - but not once had he made any move to imply that he wanted to be in any sort of relationship with me – sexual or otherwise.

When I didn't respond, he continued, "You do realize that people can do nice things without having some sort of ulterior motive," he stated. "I'm not asking you to date me, I just want –"

"I didn't…" I interrupted, but stopped to chew on my lip as I attempted to give some sort of explanation for my behavior – even though I owed him none – and cursed myself at speaking when I should have just gotten out of the truck and left it at that. "I didn't come here for me; I moved here for my brother and my son. I truly appreciate that you've brought me home today, but the truth is that I didn't come here with any intention of making friends or getting close to anyone; I'm planning on sticking to that intention."

Paul didn't speak like I expected, but the stiffness in his shoulders said more than words ever could.

I picked up my jacket off of the floor as I waited for him to speak; when he didn't, I pushed open the door –

"You've got issues – secrets, I get it. I understand. You have things you want to keep to yourself? That's fine. I do too; everyone does," Paul finally said, voice low. "I know why you don't want to be around me; I can't deny that my past choices aren't the best and that I'm not the greatest guy in the world. Honestly, there are so many people out there who think I'm nothing but a criminal that sleeps around, but even if you don't want anything to do with me, you shouldn't push _everyone_ away. People aren't meant to be alone."

And his last few words were so final that they made me pause, sinking under my skin and into my head like a parasite: _People aren't meant to be alone._

I left the truck without speaking again, because the truth of the matter was that I didn't _have_ anything to say. He let me leave without saying another word, and I could feel his gaze on my back as I made my way up to the porch with my shopping bags in hand, quickly reaching into my back pocket to grab my key.

I didn't bother to watch his truck drive away, but I heard every creak of the ground underfoot as his tires rolled against the gravel. The door slammed shut with more force than I intended; my back hit against it as I turned, bags dropping to the floor as I rubbed my eyes.

I didn't like this place or the way that it made me feel. I didn't like the fact that I was feeling utterly helpless when I had been so used to being independent; I didn't like how I enjoyed being in Paul's presence and how I was pretty sure that I was wrong in my first impression of him. I didn't like our situation, or this stupid house, or my truck, or the people in this town that seemed too damn intent on befriending me.

I didn't want friends, nor did I need any at the moment.

Besides, there was always that anvil hanging over my head that reminded me it was quite possible that we would have to relocate at any moment, if someone got too close and got wind of who we really were. I wouldn't be able to ever see any of the people in this town ever again, so what was the point in taking that chance? I had never taken a chance before and ended up avoiding hurt, so why would I do anything different now?

But there was something about this town… something about these _people_ that made me want nothing more than to stay here forever.

 _People aren't meant to be alone._

And that thought scared the hell out of me.

oOo

 _You guys know the drill! At least five reviews for our weekly updates!_

 _NEXT TIME: Writer's block, Jacob Black's mechanic skills, and a creative apology with white tulips._


	6. The White Tulips at the Front Door

Chapter 6:

 _"I ask not for a lighter burden, but for stronger shoulders." - Jewish Proverb_

Today was officially the day – the beginning of the end, the day that I would officially start writing what was surely going to be an award-winning novel, giving me the incentive to finally move on with my hectic life in the direction of something productive.

Hopefully.

Laptop giving off a soft hum from where it laid open on the kitchen table and a steaming cup of hot tea in hand, I stared determinedly at the open document on the screen and watched the little blinking cursor in the top corner of the page as it mocked me. I scowled at the tiny cursor as the sound of video game gunfire came from the direction of living room, utterly aggravated with the lack of inspiration in my head.

My problem stemmed from a lack of something to write about? Should it be fantasy? Maybe, but creating a whole new fantasy universe was time consuming. Romance? I made a face; romance was out of the question. Besides, there were so many romance novels in the world that there was certainly no reason whatsoever for me to add to the endless list of hopeless novels that were hidden in the bedside tables of housewives that were looking for romance they couldn't find in their own lives.

Mark Twain once said that a person should write about what they knew, but what did I know? Law, for one, but there were so many crime novels out there that consisted of law and justice that it seemed positively laughable to have my own breakthrough novel be about the same topics. Besides, I despised crime novels with a burning passion; they were always so… bland and predictable.

What to do, then? That was the ultimate question.

The tea burned my throat as I sipped it down, warming me from the inside out. I leaned back in my chair and took the time – procrastinating, though I would never admit it – to glance into the living room where a quietly enthralled Isaac was playing some sort of war game on the TV in an effort to pass the time. Next to him, nearly lost in a sea of blankets and floating in and out of consciousness, was Luke. The young boy had, in accordance with my original assumption, felt better first thing the next morning and was still steadily getting healthier.

But as wonderful as that was, it still didn't help my current predicament. Where was a good distraction when you needed it? Where were ideas and a single thought that could bring about a story?

Where was _inspiration?_

Aimlessly, I clicked on the Internet icon at the bottom of the screen and patiently waited until a search engine popped into view. But what to search? Writing prompts? Songs for inspirational purposes? Chewing on my lip, I realized that these ideas were all so unoriginal and pointless, and I sighed in frustration while my fingers tapped an impatient rhythm into the table.

Writing was hard, yes, but stories were supposed to come to a person naturally. You couldn't _force_ them out and into the world. Inspiration should just pop into your head, right?

And then, I had it: an idea. When I first heard it, I had passed it up as small and insignificant, but now, the events of the previous night came running back to me and I heard Paul's voice saying, _"Supposedly, one of the first leaders of the Quileute tribe – his name was Taha Aki – was a skin-walker – a spirit warrior that could turn into a wolf. He protected the tribe from monsters – these… creatures called the Cold Ones."_

"Spirit warriors," I chewed on my lip and, despite my better judgment, I typed the two words into the search engine and waited, unable to stop myself. I was curious and didn't know why. Something inside of me was compelled to search for more information about the stories, but I had no idea what it was that I intended to accomplish with my searches.

Maybe I could gather some inspiration from the old stories? After all, what could it hurt? I already wasn't getting anywhere with just sitting and staring at my laptop screen, so I wouldn't be hurting anyone just looking up some information.

I lazily scrolled through the links. Most of them were about some British television series by the same name or about an aptly named martial arts dojo somewhere in southern California. Pursing my lips together, I added 'legends' to the end of my search.

But before I could even click on a link, my phone chimed.

I let out a huff as I answered the phone, immediately recognizing the number as a feeling of foreboding and anticipation sunk into my heart. "Hello?" I asked, having been expecting the call for several days now.

"It's me."

"I know," I replied, somewhat happily. The voice sent a wave of satisfaction through me; I hadn't realized how much I had missed her – or at least, how much I craved something from my former life. "You have no idea how good it feels to hear your voice."

"It's good to hear from you, too," she replied, nothing but honesty in her voice. "I can't talk that long, but I just wanted to check in and see how you're all settling. Everything going smoothly so far?"

I thought of the many things that happened over the time that had passed since I moved to La Push and, of course, of the strange man that seemed intent on putting himself into my life. "Sort of. It's complicated."

"What happened?" she asked quickly, automatically assuming the worst.

"Nothing, nothing," I reassured her, running a hand through my hair. A stray strand fell into my eyes, but I blew it away. "Everything is slowly falling into place, the boys are adjusting as well as I could have hoped, but… okay, to be completely honest with you, there's this guy that I met –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa; hold the damn phone," her voice was sharp when she interrupted. "A _guy?_ As in – an actual _guy?_ Like a person of the male persuasion with a _penis?_ You're pulling my leg."

"Okay, overreaction much?" I snapped. "It isn't like that, so stop jumping to conclusions. It's just… well it's strange." I went on to give her the short version of my encounters with Paul, from the moment of our first awkward meeting at the grocery store, to kicking him in the crotch, to having him drive me home the night before. "I'm running into him everywhere and it's starting to freak me out."

"Is he cute?"

"For God's sake, Mona," I exclaimed exasperatedly. "You're completely missing the point!"

"No," she stated slowly, like she was talking to a child instead of a fully-grown adult. " _You_ are the one missing the point. That's what people do in real life, Katherine. They see someone they like, they talk to them, they find them attractive, they date them. Granted, your little relationship with – what's his name? Paul? –"

"There isn't a relationship."

My words fell on deaf ears; she continued like I hadn't even spoken. " – isn't really the normal way to start a relationship, but it's still completely natural. Is it so hard to think that he may be attracted to you and wants to get to know you. Sweetie, you have every right to date. You're not the same person you were a few months ago, so it's time to pull on the big girl panties and get cracking with adapting to the new environment."

"I don't want to date him, I want to get rid of him."

"Do you?"

I sighed. "Why are we even having this conversation?"

"That wasn't an answer."

"I'm hanging up on you right – oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me?"

"What?"

But I was hardly listening anymore because from my spot at the table, I had a clear view of the front yard through the kitchen window and groaned when two cars decided to park themselves right in front of the house – one of them being my own truck. "These people just don't give up!" I huffed, all but slamming the laptop shut. "Not that I don't appreciate the fact that they fixed my truck, but after last night I didn't even think that Paul's offer to have his friend replace the battery was actually still on the table."

"Maybe you're looking way too into this," she replied. "I mean, not everyone wants something from you, you know? Maybe he just likes you and wants to be your friend, even after you kicked him in the _cojones_ – which I still think is hilarious, by the way. Stranger things have happened."

I scoffed, watching as a tall Quileute man that I didn't recognize emerged from the driver's seat of my truck and made his way over to the car that had followed him. "Something is seriously off about this town and these people, Mona. I've pretty much made it perfectly clear that I don't want anything to do with them, but they're like a bunch of damn boomerangs – they just keep coming back no matter how many time I toss them away." There was a pause. "Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if that says more about me or them."

"You're so used to politicians in D.C. that you've made yourself paranoid," Monique insisted. I could almost see her rolling her eyes at me, resting her feet on her desk in her shared office with her partner in the building where the Federal Marshall's worked. "As hard as it is for both of us to believe, they probably just want to befriend you. You're overreacting."

"No, I'm not!" I hissed, eyebrows rising when I saw that the person driving the car was Emily Uley, who was carrying a glass container of some kind of food. She turned to say something to the man, who smirked and followed her toward the door. "And I swear to God, every single man on this stupid reservation has got to be on steroids. You should see these people, Mona!"

Right on cue, there was a knock at the door.

"Glad you're making friends."

"I'm not making friends," I argued, pushing away from the table.

"Maybe you should be."

"I have to go, Mona," I said suddenly, finger hovering over the 'end call' button. "Thanks for calling to check up on us." And without waiting for her response, I hung up the phone and swung open the door.

Emily's smiling face was the first thing to greet met, stomach still looking as though it could pop at any moment. "Katherine, it's so good to see you again," she greeted kindly, holding out the warm glass bowl for me to take. "Paul told me how your brother was feeling sick yesterday and I thought that since I was coming to bring Jacob home after he dropped off your truck, that I would bring over some homemade vegetable soup."

It seemed that Emily Uley lived by the motto, 'Kill them with kindness.' "Thank you?" I responded, but it came out as more of a question as my eyes trailed to the man towering behind her. When our eyes met, he grinned, showing a row of beautiful white teeth.

"Katherine, this is Jacob Black," Emily introduced us, waving a hand in the man's direction. "He fixed your truck for you –"

" – and was able to witness that incredible display at Emily's house when you kicked Paul in the family jewels - " Jacob interjected, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I frowned, staring blankly at his outstretched hand until he dropped it. His grin, however, refused to fade.

"And Jacob," Emily continued as though he hadn't even spoken, but she sent him a look filled with warning. "This is Katherine Montgomery, Paul's… friend."

"I protest to being introduced as a friend of Paul's, but it's nice to meet you all the same," I corrected, stepping aside to allow them into the house. "And thanks for fixing my car."

"Temporary fix," he corrected. "I was able to give it a jump and obviously it's working since I drove it here, but that battery won't last much loner. You'll definitely have to get it replaced sometime in the next two weeks or so. I'd be more than happy to replace it for you, but I would have to wait for the battery to come in after I order it."

"How much is that going to cost me?" I inquired.

Jacob waved a careless hand. "Forget about the cost; call it a favor."

Fantastic; he was one of _those_ people in this stupid town. "$200?" I pressed, not ready to let it go as Emily looked on, bouncing back from foot to foot.

Jacob raised an eyebrow at me. "Free of charge; seriously, don't sweat it."

"That's very nice of you, but I don't really take free things," I replied, placing the bowl of still warm soup on the kitchen counter and reaching for my wallet. I tried to look threatening and intimidating, even though he was basically twice my height, three times my size, and could probably break my spine just by giving me a friendly pat on the back.

He rolled his eyes, obviously not bothered by my intimidation techniques. "If you're going to be stubborn about it, call it $50."

My eyes narrowed. I may know jack shit about cars, but I wasn't _completely_ stupid, nor was I born yesterday; I knew car batteries cost a lot more than that – more along the lines of about three hundred dollars. Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my wallet and pulled out two one hundred dollar bills, and one fifty. Folding them, I handed them over. "Let's call it $250. I know car batteries are expensive."

I all but shoved the money into his hands, quickly pulling back at the heat that was rising from his skin. He opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off. "I'm sorry to cut this little visit short and all, but I was actually in the middle of something before you both came," I hinted, nodding towards my computer and feigning an apologetic tone. "Thank you for the soup and for fixing my truck."

Ripping off a blank end of the shopping list hanging on the refrigerator, I scribbled down my name and phone number before handing that over, too. "Call me and let me know when the battery is in and we'll make arrangements to get it replaced," I stated professionally. "Oh, and before I forget," I gently shoved past them and picked up the folded and freshly washed sweatshirt that I had mistakenly forgotten to return to Paul the night before. "Would you please give this back to Paul for me? He didn't take it with him last night."

Jacob and Emily exchanged a glance when I handed over the sweatshirt, as if they were having some sort of silent conversation. Jacob looked like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Emily was the next one to speak instead.

"Bringing the soup actually wasn't my only intention for coming here," she stated hesitantly. "I wanted to invite you and your family over to my home this Saturday. We're having a get together – a barbecue – and I would absolutely love it if you would come. It's a bit last minute so I understand if you're busy, but I really hope you can make it."

"This weekend? I'm afraid I'm going to be busy this weekend," I lied immediately, knowing that I had no intention of following through with her offer, no matter how kind it was. "If L-Thomas is feeling better, I was planning on taking the boys up to Port Angeles. They've been pretty restless, so I'm hoping that a trip to the city might cheer them up."

My cheeks felt like they were on fire out of regret and all I could think was _stupid, you're so stupid, you almost used the wrong name_ , but if they were suspicious about my flub on the name, neither of them showed it.

Emily looked disappointed, but also as if she expected my answer. "Maybe next time then," she finally said, hopeful.

"Yeah," I agreed, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "Maybe next time."

I liked Emily; truly, I did. She seemed like a wonderful person – kind and giving and helpful. But I still couldn't bring myself to get to know her, because doing so meant gaining a potential friend, and friendship meant the risk of a potential loss.

And I don't think my heart could take any more loss.

oOo

"That was a complete and utter disaster," Emily groaned, putting a hand to her forehead as she leaned back in the passenger seat of Jacob's Volkswagen. "At this rate, it feels like we're actually progressing _backwards_. And I can't believe you actually brought up what happened at the house! Shame on you, Jacob Black."

"At least one good thing came out of this," Jacob replied, triumphantly waving the ripped sheet of paper with the scribbled phone number in the air. "I'll give it to Paul and then he'll be able to –"

"He'll be able to what?" Emily asked exasperatedly, shifting in her seat as she attempted to adjust the seatbelt over her belly. "She'll be completely furious if she finds out that you gave him that number."

"Yeah, and _he_ will be furious if he finds out that I have it and didn't give it to him," Jacob pointed out, shoving the number back into his pocket as they pulled off of the road toward Emily's house.

"It's an impossible situation."

"You're telling me," he mumbled to himself. Then, louder, "Just be lucky you don't have to listen to his angry inner monologue. After the talk he had with Sam, I think he's finally gotten his head out of his ass and is determined to figure out a way to make this work. Here's hoping, at least."

Emily sighed. "I feel terrible. Poor Paul has already had it so hard with his parents being who they were, now he has to have an imprint as stubborn as he is."

"Karma," Jacob shrugged.

"It has to work," Emily assured him – or really, assured herself. She knew it had to work because it was an _imprint_. By nature, it should have been infallible. "I'm fully confident that eventually things will settle down… it'll just take a bit of time for their relationship to develop."

"Try telling that to Paul."

Emily sighed. "Sam and I were discussing it earlier today. It's the weirdest thing, don't you think? It's like she isn't even feeling the pull. How on earth could that be possible? When Sam imprinted on me, I felt it immediately – even if I didn't know what I was feeling at the time."

"She's feeling it."

"How can you tell?"

He shook his head. "It's hard to explain. If she hadn't been feeling it, she wouldn't be trying so hard to act like she hates him. There's a part of her that wants to be rid of him because she's probably just scared of how she feels – she doesn't understand it. It doesn't help at all that she's trying to shun all the men who tried to speak to her."

"What are you talking about?" Emily asked as they pulled to a stop in front of her house.

"You didn't notice?" Jacob asked, surprised. "She was completely fine while talking to you – albeit a bit awkward - but the second that you introduced us, she got defensive. I saw something similar happen in Paul's memory. When Paul brought her home after her truck broke down, it was like she was literally repelled from him; she kept trying to press herself closer to the truck to put some space between them. Originally, I thought it was just because it was _Paul,_ but she's acted weird around every guy she's met – Quil and Embry at the hardware store when she first moved here, Paul, and me."

Emily pulled herself out of the car. "Hm."

"I think she's scared of us," Jacob continued. "Or maybe, not scared exactly, but obviously she's hesitant. Like I said before, she suspects something about us – or about Paul, at least. Intuition or a feeling that something is different. Or maybe she's just hesitant around men in general."

"She strikes me as a very intelligent person, so that doesn't –" Emily agreed, pushing open the door to her home and entering the brightly lit kitchen, halting mid-step when she saw that Kim, Leah, and Paul were gathered at her kitchen table, sitting in complete silence. "What on earth are you three doing?"

"Emily," Paul pulled out one of the empty chairs at the table. "We've been waiting for you. Please, sit."

Emily spared a glance at Jacob, but he just shrugged. She sat down, exchanging a look with Kim and Leah, who looked just as confused as she was.

"Ladies," started Paul, linking his fingers together on top of the table as Jacob leaned against the open doorway, curious and amused. "I bet you're wondering why I've gathered you all here today."

"Wow, you're fucking psychic, Lahote," Leah muttered sarcastically. "Get to the point, Paul, we don't have all day."

Paul glared at the female wolf, but didn't rise to the obvious bait. Emily wondered if his suddenly growing patience was a result of having to be patient with his imprint.

"As you all know, I recently imprinted," he stated, frowning as Jacob snorted in the background. "And unlike you two," he pointed at Emily and Kim, "my imprint has decided she would rather eat dirt than have anything to do with me –"

"Can you blame her?" interjected Leah.

" – which means that I need help from the three of you to convince her to at _least_ give me a chance."

"Wait," Leah interrupted, putting up her index finger to make him stop. "I get why they're here," she gestured to Kim and Emily, "but I don't understand why _I'm_ here. I'm not an imprint and I haven't imprinted."

"Because you're a woman and a bitch," Paul answered bluntly. "I figure that you and my imprint have a lot in common and you'd probably get along pretty well."

Leah cocked her head to the side, and in a sudden gesture that surprised Emily, she shrugged. "Touché."

"Why do you keep calling her your imprint?" Kim suddenly asked, a frown on her face. "Maybe you should start by calling her by her first name – Katherine, right? And it isn't really smart to refer to your imprint as a bitch, Paul. She might not be acting the way she is if you haven't been such an asshole."

Emily realized that Kim was right in several ways: first, she had never actually heard Paul refer to his imprint by her first name; it was always 'she' or 'my imprint,' or even more common (the second thing that Kim was right about) 'bitch.' "Kim's right," she said. "You should call her by her name, Paul; it's disrespectful of you to call her anything else. Why don't you use her first name?"

Paul shifted awkwardly in his seat, looking uncomfortable at the sudden change in the line of questioning. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters," Emily scoffed.

"I don't –" he stopped, then sighed before rushing to explain. "Her name doesn't fit her; I don't like it."

"That's literally the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Leah commented, leaning back in her seat as the chair wobbled precariously on two of its legs. "It's her _name,_ Paul. If she's your imprint and you don't like her name, then you have a serious problem."

"It's hard to explain," he defended himself, crossing his arms over his chest in aggravation.

"Well _try_ to explain," Emily urged softly, getting Paul's attention. "We want to help, Paul; really, we do. What do you mean that her name doesn't fit her?"

He rubbed his eyes, and Emily was struck with the sudden realization that Paul was truly at a loss for what to do. Emily wasn't _blind –_ she knew that Paul was a really handsome guy, and she knew that Paul was used to women throwing themselves at him; he didn't have to work hard to get what he wanted – a smile, a wink, and then most women melted into a puddle at his feet.

But this… this was different. Emotional ties were not something that Paul was used to having to establish, and with the way that his own parents were, knowledge of healthy relationships was probably few and far between.

It was fitting, she supposed, like Jacob had only just stated, that the karma for the man who slept around without emotional attachments was to have an imprint who was as unavailable for emotional attachments as they came. Especially at a time when Paul _wanted_ an emotional attachment.

"Whenever I say her name, it just doesn't _sound_ right," he told them, choosing his words carefully. "You know how when you meet a person and their name doesn't fit them in the slightest; like… a heavyweight boxer whose name is Eustace or something strange like that. That's what it feels like. It's a beautiful name, but it just… something's off about it."

"Well…" Kim's voice was soft as she spoke, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know what you mean, but don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit? To me, it actually sounds a bit like you're trying to justify the idea that the imprint might be wrong."

"But that isn't it," Paul insisted, running a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. "She's annoying and infuriating and stubborn and hot-headed, and I wasn't too keen about the whole idea of an imprint," he admitted, "but I'm actually growing to like the idea. Whether I wanted to imprint or not, I _need_ to be with her; it's killing me that she doesn't want to have anything to do with me."

Emily carefully studied the man in front of her, subconsciously resting a protective hand over her stomach as she pondered Paul's words. It was strange to see this man – this person she had watched grow up from a volatile teenager to the man he was today – so helpless after being so independent for such a long time. "When was the last time you slept, Paul?" she asked suddenly, feeling motherly and protective as she noticed how his eyes were sunken and slightly bloodshot. "You look exhausted."

"That's irrelevant," he bluntly replied, eyes avoiding her gaze. "Just – I need you to tell me what to do."

The three women exchanged glances. "We can't tell you what to do, Paul," Kim stated softly. "But we can give you advice. Take things slow, for one. I didn't talk to her for that long when we first met, but from what I've heard she seems like the type of person to want to take her time when it comes to relationships – platonic or otherwise."

"But I can only go so slow until I start going backwards," he argued. "For now, I'll just settle for being able to talk to her without her threatening bodily harm. If I can get her to talk to me without yelling at me, I can take it from there."

"Well, you've got to start somewhere," Emily stated, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her chin. "Soften her up a bit and show her that you aren't as bad as she thinks." Suddenly, she smiled. "Actually, I think I may have an idea."

oOo

Several days went by until my next encounter with Paul Lahote, but this 'meeting' occurred in a way that I did not expect.

Life had been steadily getting better – well, as good as it could be. It was flowing smoothly and without error. The day of Emily's barbecue came and went without fail, and I spent the day locked up in my own home staring at the computer screen trying to type and conversing with Isaac while simultaneously hoping that Emily didn't suddenly decide to show up at the house out of the goodness of her heart.

As I started to become comfortable and accustomed to waking up in an unfamiliar place, it also began to get easier to sleep. Though, to be honest, I wasn't sure if that was because I was getting used to the new environment, because I had taken to leaving the window open at night to enjoy the night's chill air, or because of the wolf.

I wasn't sure why (since I wasn't exactly an expert on wolfish behavior,) but the silver-furred wolf had apparently taken a complete liking to the house. Night after night without fail, I would open my bedroom window to see that the wolf was already half hidden in shadow beneath the trees. Sometimes he would see me watching him before he laid his head down on his paws with an expression so sad that it made my heart hurt, but other times he was already asleep by the time I went to bed. It was at those moments that I would just stand at the window and study the intimidating creature, getting some semblance of comfort at knowing that he was something stable in this messy world – always counting on him to be in the same place at the same time when I needed something to lasso me back to reality.

There was a slightly stupid part of me that felt compelled to head outside and go to him, as if there were some invisible tie pulling us together. The rational side of me was more prominent and thought that the very thought of going outside to get a closer glimpse at a wild animal that could probably kill me in a matter of seconds was the dumbest idea in the world – an idea that would no doubt get me killed quickly and painfully.

The night went by the same as all those that preceded it… until it didn't. I made sure to read Luke a bedtime story and give him a kiss goodnight before continuing on through my routine. After checking and double-checking that the house was locked up, I would retreat into the bathroom for a short but relaxing shower of steaming water and floral-smelling body wash. After tossing on an old t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants, I said a swift goodbye to Isaac – along with a warning for him not to stay up all night – then went to my room and headed straight to the window.

But tonight, after days of the endless monotony, the wolf was nowhere in sight.

Having gone to bed disgruntled and slightly disappointed, I subsequently woke up annoyed.

And then the 'gift' came.

I knew that Paul was going to end up doing _something_ – men with personalities like his were stubborn and didn't give up easily, I knew that better than anyone, having seen it many times in stalkers. But even though Paul confused, infuriated (and admittedly, frightened me) I didn't exactly feel _threatened_ by him. At least, not enough to get the police involved, so I just let bygones be bygones and settled with hoping that he had enough common sense to keep his distance.

To his credit, he did stay away, but that didn't mean that the smug bastard didn't find a loophole in my wishes.

The day was particularly cloudy, little drops of water falling in a dreary pattern from the sky while a misty and spooky fog covered the damp ground until it looked as though it were a stereotypical Hollywood-style graveyard. It was a little after lunch that it happened, while I was standing at the kitchen sink scrubbing at some dirty dishes and feeling bored out of my mind. Lost in thoughts of electric dishwashers that would prevent me from touching damp and disgusting food with my hands and wolves with weird behavior, I almost missed the sound of heavy tires rolling against the gravel.

I glanced out the window just in time to see a large white van pull up, its sides covered in pictures of gorgeous flower bouquets. Eyebrows raised, I watched a man in a white uniform get out of the car, glancing up at the sky with a grimace, but then he quickly glanced at the address on the front of the house and headed into the back of his van.

The poor man seemed to be shivering uncontrollably from the cold in his light uniform when I opened the door after he had knocked, but he kept a bright smile on his face though he bounced back and forth on his feet. "Katherine Montgomery?" he confirmed cheerfully, taking a clipboard from under his arm.

"Yes, that's me," I replied, suspiciously looking at the decent-sized object he had cradled in his arm. The object was covered with a white towel, but peeking out from underneath I could see the bottom of a blue vase. "Can I… help you?"

"These are for you, ma'am," said the man, unveiling his burden to reveal twelve of the most beautiful white tulips I had ever seen. "If I can just have you sign here," he held the clipboard out expectantly, "I'll let you get back to your day." When I didn't move to sign the forms – too busy staring in confusion at the bouquet, he asked, "Is something wrong?"

I stared at the flowers, dumbfounded. "I'm sorry, I didn't order any flowers; I think you may have the wrong person."

"You _are_ Katherine Montgomery, correct?"

"Yes, but –"

"Then there's no mistake," he corrected me. "The flowers were already paid for. They're very nice flowers for such dreary weather," he tsked. "Obviously someone felt you were in need of a day brightener, or felt that they needed to apologize to you – if so, these were certainly the way to go."

Wordlessly, I signed the paper before taking the bouquet in my free hand. "Apologize?" I inquired suspiciously, resisting the urge to shove my face into the sweet-smelling buds that wafted up to my nose.

"White tulips are said to be a sign of rebirth and hope for the future," he explained, nodding toward the white petals in my hand. "But mostly they represent someone asking for forgiveness."

"Forgiveness," I repeated blandly, lips pursing as I suddenly realized who sent the flowers. My hands clenched around the wrapped stems as Isaac approached from behind me, sending me a surprised glance.

His smile dimmed just a fraction of an inch; obviously this wasn't the reaction he had been expecting from me. "Yes, ma'am. There's also a card for you to read," he added, pointing inside of the bouquet, where I could see a small off-white envelope hidden inside the stems.

"Thank you," I told the man, "but _no_ thank you. These would be better off for someone else so if you could just take –"

But he was already running down the stairs and toward his truck to make other deliveries, calling out a quick, "Have a nice day!" I sent him a sour look as I watched him climb into his van, leaving me staring after him in disbelief as he drove away.

I grunted and slammed the door shut, hesitantly taking one of the flowers out of the bouquet to bring it to my nose. They smelled divine – succulent and pleasant.

"Who would send _you_ flowers?" Isaac asked, suspiciously looking at the bouquet as if it would suddenly come alive and attack him.

I ignored him, digging out the card from the middle of the flowers. My name was written on the front of the card in dark blue ink in a handwriting that was messy and obviously manly.

 _Katherine,_

 _Saw these and thought of you. Maybe they'll help you understand that I'm not as much of an asshole as everyone thinks I am. (Even though I've probably done nothing to let you expect otherwise.)_

 _~ Paul_

A surge of conflicted emotions ran through my veins as I read the short message once, twice, and finally a third time. So it wasn't enough that he was already holding an unwelcome place in my thoughts that I couldn't seem to get rid of no matter how hard I tried, but he also had to give a gift that would make me think of him every single time I walked into my kitchen.

Fantastic – the bastard was sneaky.

I crumbled the message in my fists as I stared at the flowers. I had half a mind to toss them into the nearest trash compacter out of spite, but I resisted – after all, they were just _flowers._ The kitchen could use a little brightening and tulips had always been some of my favorites; it would be such a shame to have them go to waste…

Despite myself, I chuckled. "Well played, Lahote. Well played."

oOo

 _Next Time: a flashback of a paranoid acquaintance, broken pipes, and a friendly invitation._

 _Sorry to reader-chic-2 who wanted Katherine/Audrey to be the one with the apology. Oops? Thank you to everyone who's been leaving such wonderful reviews! You guys are the absolute best and your feedback really helps!_


	7. The Mishaps in the Kitchen

Chapter 7:

 _"There may come a time,  
_ _You just can't seem to find your place.  
_ _For every door you open,  
_ _It seems like you get two slammed in your face.  
\- Ray LaMontagne, "Let it Be Me"_

 _The Meridian House, Washington D.C., 5 Months Ago:_

 _Attended by foreign diplomats, members of Congress and the Cabinet, the international business community, as well as many members of the Department of Justice and those other lucky few who were able to receive invitations, the Annual Meridian Ball was considered one of Washington's most prestigious black-tie events. On paper, its purpose was to exchange ideas concerning culture and to foster a common goal toward the greater good. In reality, it was for bureaucrats to establish business contacts – a place for the wealthy and powerful to see and be seen by others._

 _It was considered a place for the most elite in the state to mingle and be noticed by others in regards to good fortune and powerful political moves, and while Audrey despised functions such as these because she hated putting herself 'out there' just for the sake of establishing business ties, she attended anyway. Besides, she had just managed to smack down one of the most illustrious criminals in the country, so she deserved to flaunt herself while she could._

 _Dressed to the nines in a pair of uncomfortable heels and a sparkling, off the shoulder scarlet dress, Audrey sipped at her glass of champagne and hovered on the edges of the room, surveying potential colleagues and competition. She hung onto her clutch and tapped her fingers lightly against the rim of the champagne flute while the orchestra played a lilting tune in the background. Men and women of all ages and races were dancing in the center of the room, all dressed in their best clothes and hoping that they were being noticed._

 _Seeing nothing – or really, no one – of interest, she moved back toward her table, stopping only momentarily to grab a small hors d'oeuvre from a waiter. Taking a seat at the vacated table - that had previously held her boss, the district attorney, and several foreign dignitaries who had long since gotten up to walk around the room - she kicked off her shoes and reached down to rub her sore heels._

 _A presence roughly pulled out the chair beside her, tossing a clinking purse on top of one of the very breakable plates without hesitation. "Not in the mood for mingling, then?"_

 _Audrey glanced up at the sound of the thick English accent, and subsequently rolled her eyes. "Certainly not with you, you posh witch. How go things in London? I had no idea that you were going to be here; last I heard, you were doing some top-secret nonsense for MI5. Did it fall through or did you come all the way across the pond just to see me?"_

" _Same old, same old; establishing contacts, examining the competition and seeking out people who could be useful in the future," said the woman, Susan Abbot, one of four advisors for the English Ambassador to the United States. She shrugged and stretched her arms above her head. "The job with MI5 fell through because of an incident with Parliament last month, so I was summoned back to the good old U S of A." She smiled mischievously. "Just in time, it would appear. Heard you've been doing well for yourself since that De Palma business."_

 _"Well what can I say," Audrey drawled smugly, giving Susan a knowing look. "Whenever I go up against a weak man, they seem to just go running in the other direction." The two shared a laugh, and she continued, "It was an open and shut case, everyone knew it. The evidence was stacked against him, so there wasn't any other decision that the jury could have made in good conscience."_

" _I agree with you. I think almost everyone knew how it was going to end," she noted, twirling her wine glass thoughtfully, the blood red liquid sloshing around and threatening to splash onto the white tablecloths. "But I was quite intrigued when I was doing my research on it. I'm sure you've been able to establish quite a few business partnerships tonight, then? Establish a few more government contracts?"_

 _Audrey gave her a ruefully bitter smile. "Not as many as I would have liked," she admitted, "but as many as I had expected. Election time is coming up," she explained, "so many of the people attending won't be around long enough to have any effect on my job. Many of those who will be staying for a long time are old men who look down on me because of my age and gender – though their wives seem to like me well enough." The two shared another grin. "Then we have our young men – those up and coming aspiring gentleman who believe they hold the world in their palms – useless, all of them. However, I did manage to have a few interesting conversations with several influential ladies who have promised to keep in touch for the future."_

 _"You've just got them wrapped around your mischievous little finger, don't you?"_

" _What can I say?" Audrey took a sip of her champagne, smirking over the rim of her glass. "I'm just completely lovable. I think it's funny. I walk around here with my head held high, and the men either part like the red sea or get furious with me. A powerful woman is a man's worst fear because they're forced to take you seriously."_

" _No," Susan protested with a smirk, "mostly just you. I was watching you when you chatted with the District Attorney's assistant – he looked as though he was about to wet himself, poor dear."_

" _Well," she said, "they don't call me the Ice Queen for nothing. Sometimes I feel bad – sometimes – but you can't argue with the results."_

 _"You're right, I can't," Susan conceded. "Speaking of feeling bad, how long did it take you to leave the boys and come here tonight?"_

" _Ugh," Audrey groaned, resisting the urge to rub her eyes and smear her mascara. "Luke looked at me as though I had just told him I was leaving and never coming back, but I had to come tonight. I felt absolutely awful, but once he realized that I was letting Monique – you know, my friend that works for the Marshall service - babysit, he cheered up quickly."_

" _That boy, I swear," she chuckled, shaking her head. "I miss them. How did they like what I sent from London? The treats and such?"_

" _Luke_ _wore the Sherlock Holmes deerstalker hat for nearly three days straight, and Isaac wants more of those jelly cookie things," Audrey replied, taking a sip of the champagne. "What are they called? Jammie dodgers or something?"_

" _Tell him to keep an eye out for the post," she shrugged. "I'll make sure to send some more." Then she cleared her throat and leaned forward conspiratorially. "But I'm afraid I approached you for a rather pressing matter that I can't stall in talking about for much longer. Word in the office is that you've pissed off quite a few people with your sudden popularity and not all of them are from the De Palma family. From what I've heard, even people in your own office are jealous of your good fortune."_

 _Audrey was unbothered. "Don't think I haven't seen how they look at me. I was just lucky enough to be presented the case in the first place, so don't even get me started with how many people are whispering behind my back, saying how I slept with Daniel to get to where I am today. Honestly, like I would actually sleep with my boss. Makes me sick just thinking about it," she shuddered._

" _He favors you," Susan pointed out. "Even I see it. That's why he took you in on a temporary basis to see if you were a good fit in the office –"_

" _Obviously I was, and now look at where I am today."_

" – _and he saw something in you that screamed potential. He wasn't wrong," she continued. "It just unsettles me. Everyone's accusing you of things."_

" _It doesn't bother me. I did my job without skirting around the law. No one can fault me and say I'm bad at what I do."_

" _I'm not saying you are." Susan raised her hands in a defensive position, the bottom folds of her dress swaying near her feet. "I'm just saying that words are very powerful in a working environments like ours."_

" _Words, words, words," Audrey carelessly waved her hand. "It's all sticks and stones, Susan."_

" _All I want is for you to watch your back until this whole mess dies down. Even though you're an absolute psychopath at times," Susan pursed her lips, glancing up and down at Audrey, "I consider you a friend and valued colleague. I would hate for something to happen because you can't control your temper – or because rumors get out of hand. You don't know if someone wants to ruin your good fortune and reputation."_

" _I managed to put one of the most prolific criminals in the country into prison nearly single-handedly. Anyone who decides to screw that up… well, jealousy is the least of his or her problems."_

 _Susan stared. "You're really not concerned at all, are you?"_

 _Audrey leaned forward. "Of course not. Do you know why?"_

" _Why?"_

" _Because I'm always ten steps ahead."_

 _But Susan just gave her a wry smile. "Not always."_

oOo

The phone call from Jacob Black about the truck battery came five days after the flowers from Paul and three days before Isaac and Luke were scheduled to start school. The days had slowly slipped away as mid-August reared its ugly head, bringing with it more rain, dampness, and a bitter cold that sunk deep within my skin.

The boys seemed unbothered by the weather change, but that may have been because they preferred to stay inside rather than out. To my relief, Luke was happy to start the first grade at Forks Elementary School, eager to make new friends and do something besides staying in his room and following his uncle around the house all day looking for something entertaining. Isaac, in a manner that was familiar to most teenagers, was not as eager to start school, and began moping as the days passed us by.

"One more year," I had told him reassuringly. "Just one more year and you'll be off to college wherever you want – well, within reason."

Of course, this didn't make him feel any better but I was sure he appreciated the sentiment all the same (probably not.)

Pressing the phone between my ear and shoulder while only half-listening to the ramblings of the Assistant Principal of Forks High School, flipping through the various stacks of paper that were scattered across my bedroom floor, I searched through the fake government documents to find the one that confirmed that 'Aiden' had, indeed, gotten all of his required vaccinations. " – and we're very much looking forward to having him at the school," Assistant Principal Tombly was saying. "Though I'm sure he isn't looking forward to starting school again," he joked. "They never are."

"He's been moping about having to start a new year in a brand new school, but I think he's ready to have something to do other than just sit around the house all day," I said professionally, frowning down at an old social security card. "Even if he won't admit it."

"I understand completely," he replied sincerely. There was a shuffling sound on the other end of the line. "Moving can be quite difficult at this age, especially with such a drastic change to quiet Forks from – what was it, New York?"

I rolled my eyes at the obvious intrusion into my personal life, but kept my tone kind. "Yes. It was certainly a change, but a welcome one." Triumphantly, I held up the sheet of paper holding his shot records. "Found it! Alright, so I'll just take these to the front office of the school when I go so you can have a copy on record and –"

My voice hitched as my eyes landed on an old photograph that had slipped out of a ripped envelope – a picture that had been previously shoved aside and hidden from view. It was frayed at the sides but the picture was still easy to make out – it was almost six years old, and in the picture I looked absolutely _terrible._ My hair was sweaty and matted to my forehead, my skin was pale and dark circles surrounded my eyes, and I wasn't even looking at the camera. Despite that, I had a tired smile on my face, because in my arms was a tiny, two hours old Luke.

On my side leaning over my hospital bed, also not looking at the camera was Isaac, who had only been eleven at the time. His nose was wrinkled and his mouth was open mid-sentence revealing a missing tooth from where he had fallen while trying to skate around the slippery floors of the apartment in his socks, while one hand hesitantly reached out to touch the baby's arm.

"Miss Montgomery?" The sudden sound of the Assistant Principal's voice in my ear startled me, nearly making me drop the phone.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm here," I replied, shoving the photograph in my back pocket to deal with at a later time. "I was distracted for a moment. I apologize, what were you saying?"

"I was just saying that if you have the medical records, birth certificate, social security, and former school records, then that's all we'll need."

I looked down at the stack of _correct_ information, taking it in my hands and neatly placing a paperclip on the pile to hold it all together. "And I'll be able to drop all of this off at the front office on the day I bring Aiden to the school, correct?"

"That's absolutely correct," he confirmed. "And you've received the email about any school supplies he'll need?"

"Yes I have; I was planning on heading to Port Angeles this weekend before school starts," if I could somehow find a way to get there despite my lack of transportation, "to make sure we have everything he needs – I want him to be prepared."

"I'm sure he will be," he assured me. "I'm positive that he'll fit right in with the rest of the students – and that he'll make a bunch of new friends."

"You sound more assured than I do," I responded stiffly, the photo burning a hole in my pocket. A sudden beep sounded in my ear, signaling that I was receiving another phone call. "I'm afraid someone else is trying to call me; I think we've covered just about everything, so if I have any questions would it be okay to just call you back at this number?"

"That would be perfectly fine. Have a nice day, Miss Montgomery."

"Same to you." I replied, hearing the signal that ended the call. Fiddling with a few buttons, I pressed the phone back to my ear. "Hello?"

"Is this Katherine Montgomery?"

I sat back and leaned against the wall, stretching out my legs. "Yes, this is she," I stated, tone clipped. "Who, may I ask, is calling?"

"This is Jacob Black – Emily Uley's friend; I'm calling to let you know about your car battery. It arrived a few hours ago and is ready for me to install whenever you'd like."

A sigh of relief went through me. "You couldn't have called at a better time. When's the earliest you can come to install it?"

"I could come now, if you'd like me to," he offered kindly. "I know you're probably at a loss for having a car right now; I have a bit of free time on my hands so it wouldn't be a problem."

"That would be absolutely perfect," I agreed. "So I can expect you here within the next half hour or so?"

"Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be there," he simply said. "I'm going to call a friend of mine and ask him to borrow his truck – I've having a bit of trouble with my own car right now – so we'll be there soon."

I hung up after thanking him, relieved that, for once, things were starting to look up.

oOo

As had been happening so often as of late, I was wrong. Things were not looking up in the slightest. In fact, they were so far from looking up that the universe was apparently literally burrowing into the ground and bringing me down into the deepest circle of hell to make sure that, as always, I stayed completely out of my mind.

Jacob's so called 'friend' turned out to be Paul.

 _Paul._

In retrospect, I had no one to blame but myself. I should have expected it, really; I was naïve for _not_ expecting it. I was actually ashamed of myself for not seeing it coming, but my idiotic self had to believe that some people actually knew when to give up. Of course, I had to be proven wrong.

Isaac appeared at my shoulder as I sneakily spied out the window when Paul and Jacob pulled into the driveway. They appeared to be arguing about something rather intently, but Jacob looked slightly smug. "That guy just doesn't give up," Isaac mused in my ear. "But as much as you find him annoying, you have _got_ to admire his determination."

I pursed my lips, watching as the two men climbed out of their truck. "To be completely honest with you, I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or have a restraining order put against him."

"I'm sure he means well," Isaac shrugged. "He seems like a good guy, if a bit… forward."

"It's weird."

"Never said it wasn't. It's really one of the weirdest things I've ever seen in my life, having someone actually find you attractive. I mean, _you_ of all people, the woman that was coined the Ice Queen among some of the most powerful figures in D.C." There was a pause when I sent him a sour look. "It's even stranger because I don't think I've ever seen you show interest in a guy in your entire life."

"Hold on just a minute!" The curtain fell back into place as I pulled away to face him, hands on my hips in a scolding way. He was several inches taller than I was so I had to look up to see his face, but he still looked sheepish at my intimidating glare. "Firstly, I'm _very_ pretty, thank you very much; just because I never dated in D.C. doesn't mean that I'm not attractive. Second, what the hell are you talking about – show interest in a guy, ha!" I scoffed.

"Oh, please," he shook his head at me. "Deny it all you want but you're absolutely _loving_ this attention. I get why you don't want to date or anything but you're literally eating this up because he keeps coming back. Face it, if you _really_ wanted nothing to do with him, you would have found a way to keep him away."

"You need to stop talking," I scolded, pushing past him when a stiff knock boomed out from the front door. "Like immediately."

"I think you should have an autumn wedding!" he called out with a mischievous laugh, stepping out of my reach when I tried to smack him.

I opened the door with a scowl on my face, watching him retreat into the kitchen. "Hi," I said in a clipped tone, sharper than I intended to be.

"Good morning," Jacob greeted in amusement, the corners of his lips turning upward. Paul, on the other hand, had an unflattering frown on his face, arms crossed over his chest. "Heard something about a wedding as we were walking up," he stated casually, eyes flickering over to Paul then back to me. "Are congratulations in order?"

My scowl deepened; I was absolutely going to _murder_ Isaac when I had the chance. "No, I'm not getting married. My brother is just a complete idiot. So," I cleared my throat as I stepped out onto the porch. "I don't really know how this works, so I guess just… have at it?" I nodded in the direction of the vehicle as I tossed the keys to Jacob. "If you need anything, let me know."

"Will do. It shouldn't take long to –"

A crash came from somewhere in the kitchen, followed by a loud curse, the squeaking of pipes, and something that sounded suspiciously like rushing water. "Oh, mother fu- Katherine, we have a _serious problem!_ "

I pinched the bridge of my nose, practically sensing the arrival of another migraine as I resisted the urge to let out an aggravated shriek. If it wasn't one thing messing up, it had to be another. "What the hell did you break?" I called out exasperatedly, whipping around the house to walk to the kitchen, where Isaac was peering at something under the sink. From my vantage point, I could heavy gushes of water seeping out through a crack in the pipes, squirting out onto the floor. "Aiden, what did you _do_?"

"I didn't do anything," he replied frantically, grabbing a bunch of the kitchen towels to toss them onto a steadily growing puddle. "The pipes are leaking or something! I just turned on the sink and they just burst!"

"Oh, damn it," I groaned, rushing past him to hurriedly turn off the sink before falling onto my knees, making a disgusted look as I shoved the towels into the water. "Go and get some of the bath towels," I ordered, looking down at the soaking towels he had tossed on the floor. "These aren't doing anything to help."

A soft knock came from the kitchen door; I didn't have to glance behind me to know who it was. "Problem?"

"Several," I nearly growled, ignoring the fact that water was now seeping into my jeans while I attempted to get a glimpse of the busted pipe. "Right now, the prominent one would be that this house is too damn old and I can't do anything about it."

His heavy footsteps approached, a giant presence taking up much of the kitchen as he bent over beside me to peer under the sink. "Move over before you end up hurting yourself," he commanded, gently shoving me aside. "Let me take a look at it."

"Mommy!" Both Paul and I looked up at the high-pitched voice. Luke was peering into the kitchen with a curious expression on his face, Mr. Hoppy hanging from one hand. He glanced down at the water, at Paul, then at me, and finally shrugged. "Can I please have some juice?"

I looked between Paul, the sink, and Luke. "Yeah, sweetie," I said with a sigh, pulling myself to my feet and begrudgingly allowing Paul to take my place near the sink.

"What happened?" he asked curiously, peeking around Paul's massive body to peer at the pipes and spurting water.

The cabinet door let out a squeak as I took out one of his plastic cups, before pulling a carton of apple juice from the fridge. "The sink is broken, hon. Mr. Lahote thinks he can fix it for us, apparently."

"You can just call me Paul, not Mr. Lahote." From under the sink, Paul had gotten onto his knees reached out a muscular arm to fiddle with the rusted metal. "And it looks like one of the pipes came loose," he stated. "I can tighten it if you have a wrench handy, but the pipes are already really rusted and I wouldn't be surprised if they need to be replaced sometime in the near future – wouldn't want any more leaks to ruin the floor."

I gave Luke a pat on the head and handed him his juice, watching as he climbed onto a chair to watch Paul work. "I'll go and get a wrench for you."

Isaac and I met on the stairs, his arms full of towels, but I simply moved past him to find the toolbox. I returned with the wrench as soon as possible, knowing that the faster I gave it to him then the sooner he could get the hell out of my house. When I returned, Isaac and Luke were leaning around Paul to get a glimpse of the sink, while Paul gestured to the problem and explained what was wrong.

I was a bit surprised that the two boys seemed so at ease next to Paul. Luke could make friends easily and once he was comfortable around a person, he was fully capable of chatting your ear off. Isaac, on the other hand, was hesitant around strangers, but the way he was intently listening to Paul speak shocked me; if I didn't know any better, I would have assumed that they had known each other for years.

"Here," I interrupted their conversation and passed over the wrench. "What are we talking about?"

Paul's biceps flexed as he tightened the pipe, his hands checking to make sure everything under the sink was working properly. "Aiden was just telling me how he was starting his senior year of high school. Forks High is a pretty good place to go to school; or at least, that's what I've heard."

I raised an eyebrow, gathering some of the soaking towels from the floor and moving them to the side to be rinsed and washed. "You didn't go to high school?"

"Not there, no," he explained, reaching up to turn on the faucet and test out the pipes. "I went to school on the reservation."

"What's a reser-reeser-reversation?" Luke asked, struggling to pronounce the word correctly.

"Reservation, sweetie," I corrected. I pulled him in my arms to get him away from the water, settling him into my lap as I sat on one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "That's where Mr. Lah- _Paul_ lives. On the La Push reservation."

"Yeah, I live on the Native American reservation." A twinkle entered into his eyes that I didn't like one bit, and he continued, "My house is actually about ten minutes away from the beach."

A noise of disbelief left the back of my throat because I knew _exactly_ what Paul was trying to do; but Isaac and Luke were immediately intrigued. "Beach?" Luke asked suspiciously, as if not fully believing Paul.

"Yeah, kiddo, right near the beach," Paul continued smugly, his eyes flickering over to me then back again as he got to his feet. "It's a really nice place, all things considered. Obviously nothing like the beaches you may find on the East Coast, but we make do with what we have."

Luke turned in my lap to face me, eyes wide and wanting. I simply glared at Paul, but he didn't even bother to look at me.

"That actually reminds me," Paul stated casually. "We have a few in our little group that are starting school on Monday, too; two of them are going to be freshmen and one is going to be a senior, but they're going to school on the rez, not in Forks. We're having a last night of fun for them this weekend before they go back to school and Emily expressly wanted me to extend an invitation – for all of you."

Much to my chagrin, Isaac looked up in curiosity from where he was wiping up the floor. "A bonfire?"

"Well, I hate to break it to you," I drawled, faking a wince and getting to my feet, placing Luke on my hip, "but we're going shopping for school supplies in Port Angeles on Saturday. We'll be gone most of the day, so we can't make it."

Paul crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe, eyebrow raised. "Well it's a good thing that the bonfire is on _Sunday,_ then."

Oh, _fuck._ Damn it, damn it, _damn it_ , I fucked up. That's what I get for being so damn cocky and assuming things before I get all the information. Paul looked too damn smug for his own good – I had fallen into his trap and we both knew it.

Luke perked up as he tugged on my sleeve. "Does that mean we can go? _Please,_ mommy; please can we go? Please, pretty please!"

"I don't know if it's a good idea," I stated, not taking my eyes away from Paul's. "It's probably going to be freezing and I don't want you both to end up being sick on your first day of school."

"It really isn't that cold once you're near the fire," Paul corrected me, only a tiny bit snootily. "And Emily always makes sure to bring extra blankets."

Before I could even bark out an exasperated response to tell him where he could stuff his invitation, Jacob poked his head around the doorway. "Car's all fixed. It should run smoothly from now on, but if you have any problems then don't hesitate to let me know."

Flustered, I placed Luke on his feet and headed toward the wallet, pulling out $250. "Thanks for your help," I said, all but shoving the money into his hands.

"But you already paid me," he said, looking down at the money, but something behind his eyes twinkled.

"Yeah," I deadpanned. "And the day you left, I magically found $250 in my mailbox. Wonder how that got there."

Jacob grinned but he complacently shoved the money in his pocket. "That's odd, how money just randomly appeared in your mailbox like that."

"Uh huh," I replied blandly. "Now thank you both for your help, but I really have things I need to be doing. Errands to run, and such."

"We have things we need to be doing, too," he stated, clapping Paul on the back. "It was nice to see you, and I hope to see you at the bonfire this weekend."

Once Jacob had disappeared out the door, Paul made to follow his friend but not before throwing me a smirk. "So it's settled then. The bonfire starts at seven, so I'll pick the three of you up at 6:45."

"I – hold on a second!" I called out, chasing after him as he took his long strides through the house. "Wait – I never said we were going; and even if we were, I certainly don't need you to bring us."

"Call it a favor. 6:45," he repeated sternly. "Dress in something warm and comfortable; if you aren't ready by then, I've been given express permission by Emily to drag you there by any means necessary."

"Any means neces-" I repeated, spluttering a bit. "What if I said no?"

The corner of his lip twitched in a way that drove me insane, making a vein throb in my forehead. "I'll persuade you."

"What's your angle, Lahote?" I demanded, arms crossed defensively over my chest. "What are you getting out of this besides a prize for most annoyingly persistent asshole in the world?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I'm not getting anything out of it," he said casually. "And I don't have an angle."

"I don't believe you."

"That doesn't matter," he instantly replied. "It doesn't make it any less true."

I stared. "You are the most annoying, pushy, and _infuriating_ man I've ever met."

"And you're the most stubborn and defensive woman that _I've_ ever met. Looks like we make a perfect pair."

oOo

 _As always, you guys are completely and utterly magnificent. Thank you for all of your reviews! This time, let's shoot for **seven** instead of five!_

 _Next Time: the science of thermodynamics and how it relates to fate, meeting the pack, and legends of the Quileute tribe._


	8. The Legends at the Bonfire

Chapter 8:

" _Since it is so likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage." – C.S. Lewis_

There is a branch of physics called thermodynamics, which preaches the scientific concept of entropy. In a summarized form, this concept basically says that it is the inherent nature of all objects to revert back to some disorganized and disordered state. For example, once a glass is broken, it simply cannot go back to its previously perfect form. When you rip apart a sheet of paper, there is no possible way that it can return to its former shape.

I never really did well in the sciences when I was in school – my brain always leaned to the side of arts and humanities, literature and history. However, this concept was one that always stuck out to me, if only because of the philosophical implications behind it. It was a way of the world; those people who were always on top had to get their comeuppance sooner or later. People who had it good would eventually fall from the spotlight and lose whatever it was they held dear – their money, power, social standing, etc. – and it would be nearly impossible to ever get those things back.

In D.C., I had what many would consider a perfect life that I worked hard to achieve. I was well off money wise – working for the government paid well – I had a decent social status, power in my position, a wonderful family, a home over my head, and a determination that gave me the strength to fight for what I wanted. And boy, did I fight. I worked my ass off to get to where I was, struggling to raise two kids, work two jobs, and put myself through college at the same time.

Suffice to say, the hard work paid off and everything was wonderful… for a while. Then the world crimpled around me and I found that my life had been ripped out from under my feet. My perfect universe had turned on its head and instead of being driven around to galas in limos while wearing expensive gowns and drinking bubbling champagne, I was now wearing flannel and blue jeans, and riding in a twenty year old Chevy to a bonfire on the beach with a man I barely knew.

Oh, how the fates loved to laugh at me.

True to his word, Paul's four-door Chevy had pulled up in front of the house at 6:45 that Sunday afternoon, and he looked extremely smug to see that I was dressed and ready to go. "I was outvoted," I grumbled at the smirk on his face when I moved to help Luke into the backseat, double-checking to make sure that both of the boys had their jackets. "So don't look so cocky; it's unbecoming."

The trip to Port Angeles the day before had been completely uneventful, and I found myself unable to relax because all Luke and Isaac could talk about was the stupid bonfire that was taking place the next day. As a result, I was grumpy through the entire morning, but that didn't dull their good moods in the slightest.

"So what beach are we going to?" Isaac asked, poking his head between the two front seats. "It's been ages since I've even been near a beach."

Paul glanced in the rearview mirror, but then quickly turned his eyes back to the road. "It's called First Beach; it's the best and cleanest beach on the rez, honestly – the one that everyone goes to when they have a chance or when the weather is halfway decent," he answered. "When's the last time the three of you went to a beach?"

"A few years ago," I replied before either of the boys in the backseat could open their mouths. "We went to Florida right after I graduated from college as a mini-celebration; Thomas was way too young to remember it, though."

Of course it was a blatant lie. The last time that the three of us had been anywhere near a beach had been a year and a half ago, when I had been sent to Italy for a law conference. Our hotel had hovered right on the coast, where the beaches were covered with tan sands and crystal clear waters. None of us had ever been to Florida.

"Well this beach obviously isn't anything like the ones in Florida," Paul replied, "but it's still a nice place. We won't be going in the water because it's absolutely freezing this time of year, especially at night, but the guys have already gotten the bonfire ready, Emily cooked a bunch of stuff for us to eat, Sam is barbecuing, and Billy is planning on telling the legends again. It's kind of a tradition."

"Legends?" Isaac inquired curiously.

"The legends of the Quileute tribe," Paul elaborated, pulling to a halt at a red light. "Billy Black – Jacob's dad – is one of our tribal elders, and every time we have a bonfire we usually close everything up by having Billy tell the legends. They're a pretty interesting story the first time you hear them but after listening to them over and over again, you tend to zone out halfway through."

"What are they about?"

A small parking area appeared in front of us, already filled with various vehicles. Paul pulled into an empty spot, his eyes flickering over to me. "I already told a bit of them to your sister, but the Quileute's are supposedly descended from wolves. Our ancestors were, according to legend, shapeshifters."

"What's shapeshifters?" Luke asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"It means that they can turn into animals. In our tribe's case, they could turn into wolves," Paul explained to him. "As such, it's against tribal law to kill them."

"I heard wolves outside my window!" he piped up as Isaac reached over to unclip his seatbelt for him. "They were howling all night in the trees! Mommy says that wolves howl when they aren't with the rest of their pack."

The corner of Paul's lips turned upward as he pushed open the driver's side door. "Your mommy is right. They howl to signal their pack members when they get lost or if they find something interesting, and sometimes they howl when they feel threatened or if an enemy gets on their territory."

"Didn't know you were a wolf expert," I mumbled, hopping down from the truck and to the cement.

"Comes with the territory of being part of this tribe," Paul shrugged.

I ignored him and moved around the truck to help Luke out of his seat, but Paul beat me to it. I watched with raised eyebrows as Paul lifted Luke onto his shoulders and gestured for Isaac and I to follow down onto the sand. He walked off listening to Luke's chatter as the younger boy gripped onto his short hair for support, and the two moved in the direction of a large group of people farther down the beach.

Isaac fell into step beside me, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. "It looks like a vein in your forehead is about to burst."

"Is it that obvious?" I grumbled, arms crossed over my chest in annoyance.

Isaac shrugged. "I'm your brother; I guess I just know you too well." There was a pause. "He seems like a good guy, you know – Paul, I mean. I don't know him that well, but I like him. L-Thomas seems to have taken a liking to him, too."

I pursed my lips. "I don't like this. There's something about that guy that just…"

"Drives you up the wall?"

I nudged his shoulder with my own and managed to give him a smile. "No, _you_ drive me up the wall. He… I don't know. There's something off about him, I just haven't figured out what it is yet. Like he has bipolar disorder, or something of the sort; his mood swings and changing attitude gives me whiplash."

"Katherine!" From several yards away came a shout of my name, and I looked up from where I was staring at my feet to see Emily making her way over to us. Trailing behind her was a tall and lanky boy, adorable in a dorky kind of way. He had a wide and cheeky grin on his face, showing two prominent dimples.

"Ready?" Isaac murmured, his eyes glancing down at me for only half a second before he turned to wave at Emily.

"For social interaction with a bunch of people I don't know?" I clarified grimly, taking in a deep breath that wasn't as calming as I wished it would be. "Never."

I barely had time to prepare myself before Emily appeared right in front of me, doing her best to hug me despite her bulging stomach. "I was _so_ happy when Paul said that you agreed to come," she said in my ear, sounding completely sincere. Then Emily pulled away and gestured to the boy waiting patiently behind her. "This is my cousin, Seth; apparently he and your brother are both the same age."

"It's nice to meet you both," Seth interjected cheerfully, his smile absolutely contagious as he reached out to give my hand a firm shake before doing the same to Isaac. "Paul and Emily have told us all a lot about you over the last few days, so I'm glad that we finally get to meet you officially."

There wasn't much at all that either Paul or Emily could say about any of us considering that we barely knew them, but I decided not to point that out to Seth. "Nice to meet you, too," said Isaac, sending him a hesitant grin.

"Some of the guys were going to go toss around a football," Seth said to Isaac kindly. "Did you want to come and join us?"

Isaac looked at me; I shrugged. "Go have fun," I stated. "Just be careful."

"Seth's a good kid," Emily reassured me as we watched them walk away toward where two other boys were running around on the other side of the beach. "And so are Collin and Brady, though they're a few years younger than Seth and Aiden. I'm sure your brother is going to have a good time."

"Aiden sometimes has trouble making friends," I found myself confiding, watching as Seth spoke and made wild gestures before Isaac threw back his head and laughed. "We've had it rough for a long time, so he's hesitant to get close to people."

Emily thread her arm through mine and led me toward the roaring bonfire, where I could see Luke sitting in the sand next to Paul and chatting about something or other with a familiar-looking girl – the toddler that I had seen at the hardware store so long ago. "I guess it's good that you moved here, then? This place is as good as any for people who want a fresh start." There was a pause. "Paul seems to be in a much better mood now, too; I think he likes you."

Before I could respond to what was surely an accusation in disguise of a casual statement, we had reached the group. Around the bonfire were several logs and lawn chairs, occupied by many of the huge men I had seen on the day I went to Emily's house to return the glass bowl. I swallowed against the lump in my throat as a voice rang out from the crowd, "Look who decided to show up – the ball kicker! Nail anyone between the legs, lately?"

A scolding shout immediately followed this comment. "Jared!"

But I merely turned to the voice that had spoken and, without missing a beat, said, "No, but the night is still young. Are you volunteering?"

The man merely grinned, standing and holding out a hand for me to shake. "Jared Cameron."

I didn't raise my hand to shake his, but he was unfazed. If anything, his grin widened when his hand fell back to his side. "Katherine Montgomery."

The other native girl, Kim, approached from behind the tall man. "I'm so sorry about him," she apologized, forcefully shoving Jared aside. "Sometimes my asshole fiancé forgets his manners – more often than not."

I frowned in Jared's general direction, scanning him from head to toe. "I've heard much worse from much scarier."

He placed a hand over his heart. "I'm offended."

"Good," I replied simply, shrugging one shoulder. "I don't give a –"

"Momma, momma, momma!" Luke cried out happily, tugging on the leg of my jeans and jumping in place while holding onto the hand of the little girl. "This is my new bestest friend, Claire!"

"My niece," Emily clarified, patting the younger girl on the head as she gave me a shy wave. "She's staying with Sam and I for a while, just to visit."

I bent down to Claire's height, noticing that she was clutching tightly to a stuffed brown wolf. "Hi, Claire," I greeted her with a smile. "I like your wolf; he's very cute."

She giggled, holding the doll out for me to see it better. "This is my Quilly wolf."

"It's a very cute wolf," I agreed, reaching out to give it a pat on the head. Before I could say anything else, Luke grabbed her hand and they were off again, coming to a stop in the sand beside two other familiar faces - Embry and Quil.

"There are a few other people that I want to introduce you to before you get settled by the fire," Emily was saying, tugging me along again through the group. "First to the three council elders, then to my husband, Sam, since you haven't been able to officially meet him yet."

Without another word, Emily all but dragged me over to a trio of older people that were chatting casually with each other – a woman and two men, one of whom was in a wheelchair. They all looked up at our approach, and I resisted the urge to cringe under their obvious scrutiny. Instead I stood tall and proud, meeting each of their eyes individually.

"Katherine," said Emily, gesturing to the man in the wheelchair first, "this is Billy Black – Jacob's father, Sue Clearwater – Seth's mother, and Quil Ateara Sr – Quil's grandfather. Everyone, this is Katherine – Paul's friend."

 _Again_ with the 'Paul's friend' thing. I would have to put a stop to that before it got out of hand.

The man in the wheelchair - Billy - nodded in acknowledgement. "It's very nice to meet you. You've caused quite a stir around here and I must say, it's been quite interesting watching the boys scramble to keep up."

For some reason, this comment greatly satisfied me. "Honestly, I'm not satisfied until I've brought hell onto at least one person, so," I shrugged, "that's a nice compliment."

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he laughed, a booming sound that came from deep within his chest. "Paul also introduced us to your son," he added, eyes glinting in the light of the fire. "Quite a smart young man – from what I've heard about you, I'd say that he inherited it from his mother, correct?"

 _Well,_ I thought, _he sure as hell didn't inherit it from his father._ "Yes, I've taught him everything he knows. Sometimes he surprises me with how bright he is."

"And it seems that your brother is getting along quite well with my son," Sue Clearwater commented, gesturing in the direction of where Isaac had gone. "Which is lovely, because Seth could always use a few more friends. What's life without them?"

 _Easy and simple, for one._ "Aiden, too; it looks like he's having a good time, which is all I could really wish for." I turned back to Billy in an attempt to be conversational. "I haven't seen Jacob tonight. Is he going to be here?"

Billy merely shook his head. "I'm afraid not. He's over in Forks with a friend of his for the day, so he won't be able to make it. He sends his regards though, and hopes that your truck is still running smoothly."

"It is," I confirmed. "I'm very glad he was able to fix it for me."

For what seemed like the eightieth time, Emily and I bid goodbye to the council elders and she tugged me off again. This time our destination was farther from the fire, toward two men standing several yards away near a barbecue pit and a picnic table filled with food that was waiting to be devoured. One of them was Paul – I resisted the urge to cringe – and he seemed to be having a rather serious conversation with a taller man – who I assumed was Sam, by the loving look on Emily's face as she gazed in his general direction.

As we walked, I felt a pair of eyes studying me intently, stuck on my retreating back. I turned to look for the source and found that a tall, statuesque girl had settled herself into the sand next to Sue Clearwater, speaking to Sue but blatantly scrutinizing me. "Emily," I asked quietly, turning my gaze forward. "Who's the girl that just sat down next to Sue?"

Emily glanced behind her. "That's Leah, Seth's older sister – my cousin." At the look on my face, Emily continued, "I know she looks intimidating but really, she's harmless. I think the two of you would actually have a lot in common – you have the same strong and independent demeanor and a 'take no bullshit' attitude."

No more was said on the subject and Emily and I continued on our way in silence. I managed to catch the tail end of Paul's conversation with Sam. " – as best as I can, but she's making it difficult. Every time I put one foot forward, she takes seventeen back."

"Take it slow," Sam stated, voice deep and low. "There's only so much you can do without ruining - "

"Hello, boys," Emily interrupted as we approached. "Is the food almost ready?"

The look of adoration that Sam gave to Emily actually made me do a double-take – it was so passionate and so loving that I actually felt as though I was intruding on an intimate moment. "Almost; we just have to wait for the burgers to finish," he replied, reaching out to pull her into his chest. He planted a kiss on her forehead before turning to me. "Katherine, right?" he held out a thick hand for me to shake, his skin scorching. "I'm glad that I finally get to meet you, officially."

"Likewise," I replied, ignoring the sudden and unprecedented urge to move my gaze over to Paul. "I'm sorry it took so long for us to meet."

"I am, too," he stated, smirking. "It's nice to be able to put a face to the name, considering the fact that Emily and Paul haven't been able to stop talking about you since you first moved here."

Emily chuckled, but Paul hit Sam's shoulder and rolled his eyes, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, "You aren't helping things, you jackass." He turned to me. "We're having hot dogs and hamburgers, if you're hungry."

"I could go for a hotdog," I agreed, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"Go find a place to sit," Paul nodded toward the bonfire. "I'll bring you a plate of food whenever it's done."

I shrugged, made my way back to the group and took an empty spot near the fire, well away from everyone else and knowing that Paul, Sam, and Emily were probably talking about me right now. I couldn't help but feel completely out of place surrounded by these people who had known each other for years. Isaac seemed to fit right in with them, and I could see him laughing and playing with Seth and his friends; Luke was doing well, too, intently listening to Claire as she exuberantly spoke and waved her toy wolf around. I felt lost; what was I doing here? I had no place among these people and their tightly knit social circle.

Luke made friends easily; he was only six, innocent to the horrors of the world and at that age where he still believed that humanity was inherently good. Isaac was different – more hesitant and knowledgeable about those things that haunt the dreams of adults and the horrors that lie in the back of dark alleys. He had grown up in the same environment that I did, and though he wasn't exposed to it as much as I was, it still made him hesitant to get close to people – to interact with people he didn't know or trust. But he was still a teenager and needed companionship/friendship to function, and now, there he was, laughing and making jokes along with people he barely knew.

What did that mean for me? Was I too hardened against the world to be able to interact normally with people? Was I too bitter and resentful against my lot in life to be able to be social, make friends, and live my life in a fairly decent and normal way?

I didn't know. The answer was too horrible to even think about.

A heavy presence settled itself beside me; it was the girl I had caught staring at me earlier - the woman with the short hair that Emily had told me was her cousin. She cleared her throat as she sat next to me, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I'm Leah Clearwater," she introduced herself. "I just wanted to congratulate you on your new spot in our half-assed, dysfunctional messed up little family."

"New spot in –" I blinked. "What?"

"On your display back at Emily's when you kicked Paul in the balls," she clarified simply, handing over one of the two water bottles she held in her hand as though it were some symbol of her approval or a peace offering. "You were able to do something that I've been wanting to do for a long time, so props to you."

"Oh, well thanks, I guess," I shrugged, tapping my bottle of water against hers when she held it up in a 'cheers' gesture. "I see that my actions have made me famous here; not sure how I feel about that."

Leah smirked. "Be happy and content with it. All of the guys here are macho assholes who think they're complete tough shit," she mused, looking down at her feet, then over to Sam and Emily. There was a vacant and longing expression on her face, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. "Especially Paul – he's always been a complete dickhead, so it's nice to know that there's someone in the world who won't take his bullshit."

"I don't take bullshit from anyone."

"Good," she nodded, satisfied with my response. "Then you have nothing to worry about and you'll fit right in with the rest of us. You know, anyone who says 'fuck you' to the patriarchy is okay in my book."

I shrugged. "I've been pushed around by men nearly every day of my life and I always fought back whenever they gave me anything less than I deserved; I have no intention of letting them walk all over me now, especially just because some guy decided that he couldn't take a hint."

"Starting shit again, Clearwater?" Paul's heavy body collapsed next to me, two plates of food in his hands. He stretched his long legs out toward the fire, his side pressed up against my calves. "Don't listen to anything that Leah says; she's just a bitter hag with no other purpose in life than to make everyone here miserable."

My eyes narrowed in his direction. "A little harsh, don't you think? Besides, I've only known her for a few minutes and I already prefer her company over yours."

Beside me, Leah snorted.

"I bring you here out of the goodness of my heart," Paul commented, shaking his head and placing a hand over his heart as if he was seriously hurt by my words, "and all you do is insult me."

"I'm being honest," I said. "Would you rather that I lie to you?"

"It might save my pride a little."

"If it's one thing you don't need, it's for someone to make sure that your pride stays intact," I scoffed, lifting a hotdog to my lips and taking a bite. "You could do with being knocked down a few pegs." There was a pause, then, as I took a glimpse at his heavy plate. "Jesus Christ, are you feeding an army?"

"I have a big appetite," he defended himself, setting the overflowing plate on his lap before taking a huge bite of his hamburger.

Luke waddled across the sand and plopped down in my lap, reaching over to pick a potato chip off of my plate. I leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Tired, hon?" I asked when he yawned lightly.

He nodded into my shoulder.

"Yours?" Leah asked curiously, her eyes flickering over to Paul and back to Luke.

"Yeah. Thomas," I stated, ruffling his hair when he reached down to take a bite of my hot dog. "This is Miss Leah. Leah, this is my son, Thomas."

"Hi," he wiggled his fingers in a wave in Leah's direction, cheeks stuffed with food. Leah's lips twitched in amusement.

"What did I say about talking with food in your mouth?" I scolded.

He smiled at me sheepishly, swallowing his bite. "Sorry, mommy."

Paul's sudden voice right next to my ear made me jump in surprise. "Billy's about to start telling the legends."

He was right. Isaac and the other boys had settled themselves into a small group several feet away, and everyone had quieted and turned to face the old man in the wheelchair. Billy had rolled himself forward several inches, and waited until everyone's eyes were on him before he spoke. "The Quileute's have been a small tribe from the beginning, but we have always had magic in our blood."

It suddenly felt as though I was thrust into an entirely different universe, back to a time when these legends were first created. Billy's voice was so deep and husky that it was hard _not_ to hang onto his every word, as though he were casting a spell over the area. I was enraptured by the tale, and found myself leaning forward in anticipation.

"We were great Spirit warriors, shape-shifters who could transform into the powerful wolf. This enabled us to scare off our enemies and protect our tribe from dangers we had never seen before. Monsters disguised as men, but it was hard as stone and cold as ice. Beautiful but deadly to those that didn't understand its true nature."

Beside me, Paul shifted in his spot. I barely spared him a glance before turning back to Billy.

"Our warriors' sharp teeth managed to tear them apart… but only fire would completely destroy it. We lived in fear that the cold man was not alone. We were right."

For some reason that was unknown to me, I shivered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Paul move again, but this time he merely passed over a blanket that I hadn't even realized he had been holding. I took it, not saying a word as I wrapped it around Luke and myself. The young boy seemed to be nodding off in my arms but was still struggling to listen, and he turned his head into my shoulder when he yawned.

I stared into the fire, absently listening and stroking Luke's hair as Billy continued to speak. There was magic inside of the words that he spoke, telling a story passed down over generations and containing the heritage of an ancient and mysterious people. The flames flickered and crackled over the logs and, for half of a moment, I saw the image of a howling wolf in the flames rushing to attack a man with sharp teeth – an ancient battle of two great and magnificent beings - one more so than the other. One natural and of the earth, while the other was… almost demonic in nature.

"She took her vengeance on the village," Billy stated, his own gaze locked on the flames as though he were lost in thought. "Our elder chief, Taha Aki, was the only spirit warrior left to save the tribe, after his son was killed."

There was a pause in his speech, and the air shifted. A heavy anticipation settled over the atmosphere, sending a chill up my spine.

"Taha Aki's Third Wife could see that he would lose. The Third Wife was no magical being, with no special power but one: courage. The special bond that she held with Taha Aki – a bond valued by all but experienced by a rare few – drove her to do whatever was necessary to save him and the tribe. Her sacrifice distracted the Cold Woman long enough for Taha Aki to destroy her. She saved the tribe, through her courage and her love."

Luke shifted in my grasp when Billy paused his sad story. Sad, yes, beautiful and magnificent… it sent a thrill through my veins. Despite how much pain was in my heart at the bittersweet story, it gave me a sense of hope... but also a sense of unease, as if everyone here knew something that I didn't.

"Over time," he finished dramatically, "our enemies have disappeared. But one remains – the Cold Ones."

The atmosphere shifted again and everyone seemed to move out of his or her stiffness. The fire burned just a little brighter and the mood lifted, bringing with it an emotion I did not expect – longing… but for what?

Luke was fast asleep in my arms, his head pressed into my neck and warm breath brushing over my skin.

I turned to Paul when the conversations around the fire grew louder. "I really need to get Thomas in bed for the night; do you think you can bring us home?"

He immediately nodded. "Of course."

"I want to go say goodbye to Emily, first," I added, struggling to my feet with Thomas still in my arms to head to where Emily and Sam were sitting. "Tell her thank you for inviting us and such."

"I'll take him to the car and get him settled, if you want," Paul offered. "Just to make sure he doesn't wake up."

I hesitated. Once again I was reminded how much I barely knew Paul or any of the people sitting around the fire, but somehow, I knew that no harm would come to Luke or Isaac while they were in Paul's care. After several more seconds while he stared at me expectantly, I handed him over. Luke immediately curled into Paul's neck and let out a yawn, arms twining around the older man's neck.

Emily was shaking her head at something that Sam was saying when I approached, and they both looked up when I came to a stop in front of them. "Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to say goodbye and to thank you for inviting me," I told Emily, running a hand through the hair that was falling out of my ponytail. "Thomas fell asleep and I really need to get him home and in bed."

Emily struggled to her feet while Sam protectively watched her every move. One of his hands lifted as though to catch her if she fell, but then it dropped back to his side. "I'm so happy you decided to come and listen to the legends. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I did," I confirmed, surprised at my own sincerity. "The legends were very interesting and I'm glad that I was finally able to meet everyone."

"And I know that everyone was happy to finally meet you," she agreed kindly. "I hope that you, Thomas, and Aiden will be able to come to a few more events – or maybe come to dinner at my house sometime. We all enjoy your company and I think Claire made a new friend in Thomas today."

"Yeah, I think so," I agreed. Then I chewed on the inside of my cheek before blurting out, "I'm sure he would love it if we set up a play date sometime. Obviously he doesn't really know anyone and, like you said, he seems to have taken a liking to Claire."

Emily visibly brightened and eagerly nodded. "Oh, I think that would be fantastic. I'll call you to set up a day?"

"Definitely," I said, giving her a final wave before trailing off to fetch Isaac from his new group of friends. "Come on, Aiden," I called out. "Time to go."

He waved in acknowledgement and said his goodbyes to the other boys, a wide smile on his face as he fell into step beside me. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned, looking content. "That was fun," he stated. "We should do that again if they invite us. Seth also invited me to go over to his house sometime this week to go play video games or something."

"I'm glad you're making friends," I replied, shoving my freezing hands in my pockets. "Thomas is enjoying himself, too; Emily and I are going to set up a play date for him and Claire, since they hit it off so well."

He was quiet for several moments as we walked toward Paul's truck, obviously wanting to say something but not sure how to bring it up. "Maybe this isn't going to be as bad as I originally thought it would be. This whole 'moving to a new place' thing; to be honest with you, I'm starting to like it here."

"That's good," I said, reaching out to pat his shoulder. "I knew you would get settled eventually."

"Are you?" he asked. "Getting settled? It looked like you hit it off with Emily and her cousin… Leah?"

"Leah and I have similar personalities, apparently," I shrugged, wryly smirking. "And I sense some tension between her and Emily, though I have no idea what for."

"That still didn't answer my question."

"I'm fine. As long as you two are happy and safe, I'm content."

We had reached the outer rim of the parking lot, and I could see Paul fiddle in the backseat to put Luke's seatbelt on before he climbed into the driver's seat. Isaac followed my gaze. "But you deserve so much more than contentment. You deserve to be happy, too."

"Maybe in another world, Katherine does," I mumbled, mostly to myself, "but Audrey doesn't."

oOo

 _You guys are awesome with the reviews! All of the long reviews are really helpful, thank you! Let's try again to shoot for seven!_

 _So by the time the next chapter is posted, I'll be in college again! I've transferred schools so I'll finally be living in a dorm, but I'm going to try and make sure that I don't get behind on the updates. I already have several chapters finished and ready to post when the time comes (after they get read over one last time for some last minute edits/additions, etc.)_

 _Next Time:_ _Another glimpse into the past, an escaped convict, intense conversations during a car ride home, and a realization concerning unwanted attraction._


	9. The Escape on the Television

_Spent all of Saturday moving into my dorm with no opportunities to write and didn't get a chance to update until now, but it really was a great experience. Been in college for two years already and this is my first time living in a dorm (I really did everything backwards.) But like I said before, this shouldn't affect the updating schedule - and if it eventually does when exam time comes around, I'll be sure to let you all know how the schedule goes and then get a chapter out as soon as possible! In the meantime, enjoy this one!_

 _Also, we're almost at ten chapters! My, how time flies. The idea for this came to me in December of last year, I first started writing this in February, published the first chapter in June, and we're already in mid August! Looking forward to another great few months and hope everyone is doing well now that school is starting up again!_

* * *

Chapter 9:

" _The only way to find true happiness is to risk being completely cut open." – Chuck Palahniuk,_ _Invisible Monsters_

 _Mount Pleasant, Washington, D.C., 4 Months Ago:_

 _Contentedly reclining on the leather sofa in the safety and comfort of her own apartment in the gated community of Coldwell Condominiums, Audrey Perdue sipped on a freshly steaming cup of tea while flipping though a stack of witness statements involving her next case. Scribbling down a note as a reminder to schedule a pre-trial conference, she lazily stretched out her legs so that her feet rested on the coffee table and absently tugged at the key around her neck. This was, she knew, what dreams were made of – warm drinks, a cozy atmosphere, and the ability to recline on a comfortable sofa after a hard day of work._

 _It had been almost two months since the case that had made her career – the 'Big One,' as some of her kinder and more supportive coworkers had taken to calling it. Along with a pretty substantial pay raise and a subsequent statewide acknowledgement from people who ran in similar circles – though really, news portrayals focused more on the criminal than the lawyers or victims involved – Audrey had been given a newfound respect in her field that she had been milking for all that it was worth._

 _Near her sock clad feet, Lucas sat on the floor and was busy scribbling on a piece of paper with a blue crayon. The picture was unintelligible from the angle she was sitting but he looked quite proud of it, so she didn't bother disturb him. Behind her, as the TV flickered some mindless sitcom for background noise, the front door swung open._

" _I'm home!" Isaac called out as he trailed through the room in his soccer uniform, a ball hanging under his arm and his school bag thrown over one shoulder. "What's for dinner? I'm seriously starving."_

" _I ordered pizza," Audrey replied, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the smell that was wafting over the couch from his general direction. "You need to go take a shower before you eat so you don't stink up the whole house, because you smell awful." He shrugged and moved toward the kitchen. "How was practice? You're home a bit earlier than usual."_

" _Fine, as always," he called out, and Audrey heard him digging around in the fridge. "Harrison was out sick so I had to fill in as goalie, but otherwise it was good. Couch let us out early because he got a call mid-practice that his wife went into labor; he's probably with her at the hospital right now."_

" _Did you get your chemistry test back yet?"_

 _As if on cue, a small stack of papers was thrust in front of her face. A giant 'A -' was at the top of the page next to Isaac's scribbled name. "Yep. An A-minus. The tenth A I've gotten in a row. Which means that I've completely gone through with my end of the bargain…" He let his voice trail off as he came to a halt beside the couch, giving Audrey an expectant look as she closed the file in her lap._

 _She purposely took a long amount of time to scan the pages of the test, scrutinizing the red grade at the top. "So it would seem," she said, passing back the papers once she was satisfied. "Alright, I'm a woman of my word. We'll find a time sometime soon to go look at car dealerships, maybe test a few and see if we can find anything you like – within reason, of course, and I'm not making any promises about – Jesus, Isaac, how many times have I told you not to drink out of the milk carton!"_

 _Isaac froze, half-empty carton of milk halfway to his mouth. Then he just shrugged and chugged back a giant gulp. "I was thirsty," he said, as though it were a good excuse, screwing the top back on when he was done._

" _Well use a glass next time!" On the coffee table, Audrey's phone began to vibrate uncontrollably across the glass. "Go put that in the fridge – absolutely disgusting. The boy wants a car but still drinks out of the damn milk carton," she mumbled to herself, reaching for the phone._

 _The caller ID read 'Lucy Vanderbilt,' and Audrey lifted the device to her ear. Lucy's sudden shrieking voice made Audrey jump and almost drop the phone in her lap, and Luke, having heard the loud scream even from where he sat, turned around to look at his mother. "Drop whatever you're doing and turn on the news right now!" she yelled urgently, panicked. "It doesn't matter which station, just turn it on! And hurry!"_

 _Audrey gave the phone a weird look but picked up the remote and aimed it at the television. "Alright, alright, just give me a second. What's so important?" she asked, flipping onto Channel Four News._

 _She didn't even need Lucy to give her an answer. The headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen said all that she needed to know: 'Recently Convicted Mob Affiliate Frankie De Palma Escapes, Kills Five.'_

" _Holy shit!" she shouted in surprise, tossing the folder of a future case to the side as she got on her knees in an attempt to get closer to the TV. The papers went flying across the floor but she ignored them, focused on the impossible information she saw on the screen._

" _Mommy that's a bad word!" Luke fussed her._

" _Shhh!" Audrey hushed him, turning up the volume._

 _On the screen, two well-dressed people were reporting on the story. "… Was arrested for the murder of Eleanor Mariani almost a month and a half ago and according to sources has escaped as he was being transported by prison van while going to the Washington State Penitentiary. Mr. De Palma had managed to kill his three guards as well as two other inmates that were being transferred with him before running away. It has been concluded that he tried to find shelter in the woods around the area where the transport van had stopped, but he has not been found."_

" _Are you watching it?" Lucy hissed over the phone. "Do you see it?"_

" _Yeah," Audrey replied with pursed lips, incredulous. "I see it. Listen, Lucy, I need to call you back in just a second – I have another call I need to make." Without waiting for a response, Audrey hung up the phone and dialed another number, one that she knew by heart._

 _The recipient of the call picked up on the first ring, as though he had been expecting her to dial his number. "I already know what you're calling for; yes, I'm already watching it and no, I barely know more than you do at this point."_

" _Who's taking the investigation, Daniel?" she immediately interrogated her boss, sounding as professional as she could though her voice still felt tight. She felt Isaac come to a stop somewhere nearby, his own eyes locked on the TV. "Do they have any leads? Any idea how he escaped or where he's going to go?"_

" _It crosses county jurisdictions so the case is automatically going to the FBI," he replied, sounding hesitant. When she didn't speak, he continued. "As for leads, well, I honestly have no idea. It's all speculation at this point, but Audrey, I think you should know that there are some people throwing around the idea that this could be an inside job. That someone helped him get out."_

" _Well of course it's an inside job," she snipped dryly. "Even De Palma couldn't have possibly taken on five people by himself. The mob has connections everywhere; he's probably gotten himself halfway across the country by now." There was no answer from the other end of the line – just a heavy silence. "What?" she asked. "They don't… they don't think that I would have had something to do with it, do they?"_

" _No, no, of course not," he reassured her. On the screen, a picture of the escaped man appeared; even in his mugshot he looked entirely too smug. She scowled. "It's just…"_

" _What is it that you aren't telling me, Daniel?"_

 _He sighed. "The police have managed to keep it out of the news so far but I feel the need to tell you – about an hour ago, a man was found murdered near Emery Recreation Center. He had gone to work and someone knocked him out and dragged him off. As it turns out, he was one of the jury members that helped put De Palma away."_

 _Audrey fell back against the couch, feeling weak._

" _It could just be a coincidence," he continued quickly, "but we think that De Palma, or people he knows, may be going after people involved with the trial."_

" _Jesus Christ, Daniel, get to the point!" Audrey snapped. "I was the prosecutor in the trial – do I need to pack up and leave my apartment, or what?"_

" _Don't do anything rash, Audrey," he ordered, making her skin crawl. "Like I said, it could just be a coincidence and have nothing to do with De Palma. He's probably long gone by now."_

" _That's the problem, Daniel," she interrupted grimly. "I don't believe in coincidences."_

oOo

The ride home was quiet. The day had exhausted all of us and the only thing I wanted to do was crawl into my bed and sleep through the night. In the backseat, Isaac was leaning against the window and dozing, and Luke was completely knocked out, leaning his head up against Isaac's shoulder. I was glad that they had a good time, and extremely grateful that I wouldn't have to fight to get both of them to sleep in preparation for school tomorrow.

I stared down at my hands and absently picked at one of my nails as Paul's truck rolled down the street. We sat in a silence that wasn't comfortable, but at the same time I wouldn't go so far as to call it awkward. Uneasy was a good word – hesitant, maybe. I chanced a glance over at Paul; he was staring straight ahead, one hand on the wheel and one tapping anxiously against his knee. Honestly, he looked as tense as I felt, so I took comfort in the fact that I wasn't alone in that moment – even if the only one that I could relate to was him.

There was something about his profile that made me look a second time, my eyes trailing over the contours of his jaw, his sharp nose, and prominent cheekbones, studying them with a practiced eye as though I could read his personality like it was written on his skin. Thick lashes hooded his eyes and the hollow circles surrounding them told me that he had to be having as much trouble sleeping as I was. Paul was handsome; I would have been stupid to deny it and blind not to see it. More than handsome, really. One could go so far as to call him drop-dead gorgeous.

But looks didn't make a man. And a combination of looks and a bad attitude was just asking for disaster.

I sighed, looking away and leaning my head on my hand. Even so, there was something about him that utterly intrigued me though I couldn't put my finger on _what._ Maybe it was just my loneliness finally coming out to play at what had to be the worst time possible, or maybe my common sense had decided to just hit the road and run far away, but I couldn't deny that there was something about Paul Lahote that I liked – even if I knew that being intrigued was probably one of the worst mistakes I could ever make.

Because the last thing that I needed right now was a manwhore trying to get me in bed with him.

Immediately I brought my hand to my forehead and rubbed my eyes as a rush of guilt flew through my veins. I was brought back to an earlier conversation we had the night he had brought me home after my truck had broken down in the grocery store parking lot. _'Give me one instance where I've come onto you – one instance where I propositioned you or made you think that my intentions were anything less than honorable.'_

When trying to find an example I had come up completely empty, and even now I couldn't say with certainty that I knew what his intentions were, but I knew he wanted more than an easy lay. But how much more? And why? Why with _me?_ Could I even give him anything more if that was what he wanted? Did I _want_ to?

So many questions, but no answers to be found anywhere.

The truck tires made a familiar crackling sound against the gravel as he pulled up in front of our house and the vehicle came to a stop. Isaac immediately piped up from the backseat before anyone else could say a word, reaching across the seat to unbuckle Luke from his seatbelt. "I'll take Thomas inside and put him to bed."

"Make sure you take a shower and get to bed, too," I warned when he hopped out of the truck with Luke in his arms. I tossed him the house key, nodding toward the front door. "You have to get up early for school tomorrow."

"Ugh, don't remind me," he grumbled as he left. Paul and I watched him approach the porch and struggle to open the door with one hand.

Neither of us spoke until well after the door had swung closed. "What are we doing, Paul?" I questioned tiredly in the silence of the truck. "You said you don't have an angle and that you're not getting anything out of this, so why bother?"

Instead of answering, he responded with a question of his own. "Does it bother you?" he asked. "Is it so hard to believe that I don't have any ulterior motives? Is it so hard for you to believe that I just enjoy your company? Why is that so difficult for you to comprehend?"

His questions hung in the air between us, heavy and potent. It took me several moments before I could say anything – and I knew I _had_ to say something, because I somehow knew he wouldn't let me leave without a response. "Because," I finally murmured, being more open and honest than I intended, "you would be the first."

I knew that the look he was giving me was probably sympathetic, so I didn't look at him. I didn't want to be pitied, of all things. I _couldn't_ look at him, because if I did… well, with the way that my heart was painfully beating against my ribcage, I probably wouldn't have been able to handle the intensity. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, voice very soft. "Most people – especially men – hate the fact that I'm so standoffish. They all get furious when I say something that they don't like. They tend to avoid my company rather than actively seek me out."

I shook my head. "But I am the way I am for a reason and I'm not going to change for anyone," I quickly added. "I don't dislike who I am, but sometimes when I get around people I don't know or people that I think are a threat, I automatically get… defensive. I can't help it. I'm not used to people trying to get close to me without having something to gain."

He didn't comment on the fact that I had basically called him a threat. It seemed that he was choosing his words carefully, not wanting to unintentionally offend me. "What made you like that?" he questioned, then winced like he wished that he could just retract his words.

I thought about it. "Life, I suppose," I mused halfheartedly. "My life wasn't always sunshine and daisies – not that it is _now_ , but you get what I mean. We had it rough and… circumstances weren't always the best. Is-" I cleared my throat. "Aiden and I didn't grow up in the best of environments and we had to make due with what we had; that involved fighting for what we wanted. What made _you_ the way _you_ are?"

"Life," he mimicked immediately, shrugging one of his shoulders when I glanced at him. His expression wasn't angry or pitying or even smug like I expected. Instead he simply looked… thoughtful. "Maybe I'll tell you one day, whenever you decide to open up to me."

"Don't hold your breath," I mumbled.

I waited several moments for him to speak again and when he didn't, I pushed open the door and let it fall shut behind me. I didn't even hear his door open but suddenly he was in front of me and we were standing in the yard just staring at each other. My breath caught in my throat as I suddenly realized how _close_ he was – so close that I could feel his body heat on my own skin through the air.

"You asked me what I'm getting out of this," he stated, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and taking a step back – like he could tell that he had startled me. "All I want is whatever you can give me. I just want to be your friend, that's it. There aren't any ulterior motives or secret intentions; I just like being around you."

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. "Even after I kicked you in the balls?"

To my relief, his lips twitched. "Even after you kicked me in the balls," he agreed. "But if you don't want to be near me, I understand completely. Just say the word and this will be the last time you ever lay eyes on me. I promise I won't even approach you again, if you decide that that's what you want."

I raised an eyebrow, shocked at his tone. "You're serious."

"I'm tired," he explained weakly, eyes darkening in the moonlight. I could read his exhaustion all over his face – in his eyes, in his posture, and in his tone. "I'm tired of fighting for someone who doesn't want to be fought for. Maybe I'm an idiot for giving up so quickly – or for putting the ball in your court, so to speak – but I have enough pride left in me that I refuse to keep fighting for a hopeless cause. I could be a good friend to you – the best friend you've ever had, if you gave me that chance – but if you don't want to see me again… I'll leave you alone. No matter how much I may hate myself for it."

"Just like that," I murmured curiously, cocking my head to the side in an attempt to read between the lines. Instead, I found that he was being nothing but honest. "If I said I never wanted to see you again, you would leave me alone from this point on?"

He looked pained and visibly paled like he had only just realized what he was saying, but finally nodded, conceding. "If that's what you wanted."

 _Was_ that what I wanted? I had been trying to convince myself that I wanted to be rid of him for so long that I was no longer sure I had felt. It had become exhausting, trying my best to annoy him into leaving, and now I could relate to him - I was tired, too. So it would seem that we were both weary from our endless back and forth, and now he was handing me a simple 'out' on a silver platter. One word, one single word and I could have Paul Lahote and all of his friends out of my life forever.

But was that what I _really_ wanted? His words so long ago had been correct, of course. ' _People aren't meant to be alone._ ' We were supposed to make relationships and mistakes – both good and bad – and we were supposed to have friendships and social ties to other people so we wouldn't drive ourselves insane.

With that thought in mind I realized that… sure, I could do a hell of a lot better with making new friends, but I could also do a lot worse. I had pushed away so many people over the years that I wasn't sure how to have a friendship with a man that didn't completely revolve around a career – or a man that I wasn't related to – but that's really what part of this move was about. A fresh start in a new place; a chance to start over, "tabula rasa," so to speak, and Paul had given me the perfect opportunity.

Because, as had become quite plain, I was very tired of being alone.

A depressed look of pure resignation had appeared on Paul's face, as though he assumed he had already guessed what my answer was before I even had a chance to speak.

Praying that my answers wouldn't completely backfire on me in the future (but knowing that they inevitably would), I gave him my answer the only way I knew how. "Actually, I seem to remember you telling me that there was something wrong with my kitchen sink," I sniffed snootily, crossing my arms over my chest when he raised an eyebrow. "Considering the fact that I don't know any reliable plumbers in the area, I assume you know that you'll have to be the one to fix it for me."

Paul stared blankly for half of a second before a wide and slightly smug grin appeared on his face – a grin that, I concluded, made me realize that I never had any intentions of making him leave and stay away. "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

"So I've been told," I grumbled, but I felt the corners of my lips curving upward into a smile. "And just for the record, I don't want any shitty work done; the house is old and broken down enough as it is, so I don't want you fucking it up even more."

He lifted up his right hand like he was about to swear over the bible to testify in court. "Scout's honor."

I smirked. "I would feel more inclined to trust you if I believed that you actually _were_ a Scout."

He didn't say a word but, if possible, his grin widened.

" _Goodbye,_ Paul," I stated pointedly, unable to resist the urge to chuckle at the happy look on his face. He had a beautiful smile, I noticed – you know, when it wasn't a result of annoying the fuck out of me or causing other people misery. "I'll see you soon."

His hands twitched at his side like he wanted to reach out and hug me, but he didn't – obviously scared to push the boundaries of our already fragile relationship. Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets and backed toward his truck. "I'll see you later, then."

I shook my head at his retreat, heading up the porch and to the house. I glanced back only half a second to watch him pull out of the driveway and rolled my eyes when he gave me a cheeky grin of farewell. I locked the door behind me when he drove out of sight, immediately heading to where a light was still on in the kitchen.

Isaac leaned up against the sink, the window curtain moving behind him. If he hadn't looked so sheepish, I wouldn't have expected a thing – but the way he was looking at me told me that he had been watching through the window unabashedly.

I sent him a sour look. "Real subtle," I scolded, tossing my keys on the kitchen table while he sighed and placed his glass in the sink. "Did you put Thomas in bed? He didn't wake up, did he?"

"He's still asleep," Isaac confirmed, staring at me so intently that I felt unsettled. "Didn't wake up at all; the little brat was exhausted."

"You should get ready for bed, too," I gently commanded, glancing over at the clock on the wall. "But I understand if you still have a lot of energy left; it was an… overwhelming night, to say the least."

A mischievous and cocky grin appeared on his face, collapsing into one of the chairs at the table. "I could say the same thing about you, missy, but you look like you would be too giddy to sleep."

I automatically moved to the sink to wash his dirty glass. "What the hell are you talking about? And get your feet off of the table – for heaven's sake, we have to eat there."

He ignored me, so I physically pushed his feet to the ground. "You had the most interesting expression on your face when you came in the room," he leaned forward eagerly. "Audrey, I haven't seen you smile like that since before Thomas was born."

"Katherine."

"That's irrelevant," he shook my correction away. "I almost dropped dead at seeing that smile on your face."

"Oh, hardy har har," I scowled, placing the glass back in the cabinet where it belonged. "I'm just happy that I think Paul has reached past his complete asshole stage. We're evolving, which is fantastic – albeit, a bit unbelievable, but I'm not going to question it. Progress is progress, after all."

He tapped his fingers against the tabletop, studying me for several long moments. "I would be okay with it, you know," he casually stated. "Thomas, too, though I don't know if he'd really understand what was happening."

"Okay with what?"

"If you wanted to start dating Paul – or dating in general."

I made a face.

"I'm serious."

"I know, that's what makes this scary."

Isaac sighed and shook his head. "Say what you will, but any guy that's able to make you smile like that again is okay in my book. It's been forever since I've seen that expression on your face, and no matter how much he infuriates you…" He shrugged. "You have to admit that there's something about him that makes you happy."

The chair next to his scraped across the floor as I pulled it back, taking a seat and reaching forward to pull him close to me and ruffle his unruly hair. "You know what makes me happy?" I asked. "You do. Thomas does. Just because I like Paul's company – _sometimes_ – doesn't change anything. I'm very content with being single and have no intentions of dating anyone anytime soon."

Silence. "He likes you a lot, Audrey – no, don't correct me. We're alone in our own damn house and I want to use your real name. I can see the way he looks at you – like… like you're the most beautiful thing in the world – I can't really see it, though."

I shoved him, and he laughed.

"The point is that he likes you a _lot_. But you don't want to date even though he makes you happy – and don't even deny it because I know it's true," he hesitated. "Don't you think he deserves to know _why?_ "

I visibly tensed and Isaac immediately looked regretful at speaking. I stared out the window above the sink, chewing on my lip. "Paul asked me what it was that made me the way I am…" I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "And I wanted to tell him, but I just – I couldn't get the words out. It's not time for me to tell him; I don't know if I ever will, because…"

"It's hard to talk about." He finished gently, reaching out to tug on my sleeve. "You know I love you, right? You're my sister – one of the only two people I have in the world. I know we have our differences sometimes but I want you to know that I appreciate everything you've done for me – all of the opportunities and making sure I was fed and had a roof over my head. I know you've had to give up a lot over the years, and I really am grateful for what you've done."

"I know you are," I softly replied, patting his hand.

"But, Audrey," he continued, and this time I didn't have the energy to correct him. "You don't have to take care of me anymore. I'm going to college next year, and then it's just going to be you and Thomas. You don't have your fancy job to keep you busy anymore, so you need to find something to do – something that makes you happy. You don't have to give things up anymore just to make sure that we're okay, because we are. If you want to be 'friends' with Paul – or more, or less, whatever – you deserve to do that. It's time for you to take care of yourself."

"You listen to me," I scolded, squeezing his wrist and waiting until he looked me in the eye to continue. "Don't you ever think for one second – not _one second_ that you and Thomas are holding me back, because you aren't. I have never and _will_ never regret everything I did to keep both of you happy, healthy, and safe. I gave up things because I wanted to, not because I _had_ to. And it doesn't matter how old you get," she added as a last minute thought, "you'll still be that messy little boy missing his two front teeth that liked to roller skate through the house and bump into all the furniture. I'll always take care of you, even if you don't want me to."

Isaac gave a weak smile before he pulled away, pushing away from the table. "I'm going to head up to bed. Big day tomorrow, you know?"

"Yeah," I agreed. "Very big day."

I watched him trail up the stairs with his hands in his pockets, waiting until I heard his bedroom door gently click shut before I buried my face in my hands and rubbed at my temples. Deep inside my head I cursed myself for having a brother that was so observant and a life that was so complicated, because really, there was nothing in the world that could change the fact that Isaac was right. I _did_ feel happy around Paul – or at least, less stressed, if you could even call it that.

Paul was just… a complication. A distraction. It wouldn't be fair to him to lead him on without an end game.

But then again… on several occasions I had made it perfectly clear that I had no intentions of beginning to date, so if he wanted to stick around then that was his prerogative, right?

Right. Who was I to tell the man what he could and couldn't do, especially when I so greedily liked his company and found him interesting? No one, that's who! And no one would ever be able to tell _me_ that I can't do what _I_ want to do, and I would continue to enjoy Paul's company for –

Oh, dear God.

Horror swept over me in a wave. Was I… was I actually _attracted_ to Paul? Was that what was happening here? Was that _attraction?_ It had been so long since I had found another man appealing that I wasn't even sure what I was feeling, but the emotion was so strong and so potent that it couldn't have been anything else.

' _Don't act so shocked,'_ said a smug voice in my head. _'It was bound to happen sooner or later.'_

"Oh, God," I groaned aloud, rubbing my eyes with my hands. "You know what? No. Nope. Not happening," I mumbled to myself as I pushed away from the table and stalked determinedly toward the bathroom to shower. "Nope, nada, not ever happening in any lifetime. I don't care what the situation is – I'm gong to deny it until I'm blue in the face. I'm not attracted to him. Not in the slightest."

Because any attraction to Paul Lahote was just asking for trouble.

 _oOo_

 _NEXT TIME:_ _Paul the handyman makes an appearance, suspicious phone calls about a nasty crime, and an astounding realization._

 _I absolutely love getting your reviews and comments because you guys are the sweetest! Thank you all so much and keep those reviews coming! I love the feedback because it helps to improve my writing!_


	10. The Handyman Under the Sink

_I hate college. That is all._

oOo

Chapter 10:

 _"I want to say somewhere: I've tried to be forgiving. And yet. There were times in my life, whole years, when anger got the better of me. Ugliness turned me inside out. There was a certain satisfaction in bitterness. I courted it. It was standing outside and I invited it in." - Nicole Krauss_

"When I said the words, 'I'll see you soon,' that wasn't supposed to be translated into 'I'll see you tomorrow.'"

The night before had taken its toll on me as so many had before. Morning came much too soon, along with it a big day for the boys. It didn't take much to get Luke out of bed after he had such a good night's sleep – in fact, he was already awake and playing with his toys by the time I went to get him ready for the day. Isaac, on the other hand, being the stubborn teenager that he was, was a completely different story.

"Aiden, I swear to God you need to get your ass up and out of that bed in the next ten minutes or we're going to be late!" I called up the stairs from the living room. "Your uncle is a lazy bum," I told Luke while the young boy finished his breakfast at the kitchen table. "If he doesn't get up and get dressed in the next five minutes, I'll make him walk to school."

Luke giggled, shoving another spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

When no noise came from upstairs, I let out a frustrated huff and stomped up the stairs. "I'm going to kill him. I'm officially going to kill him. There is going to be a bloody homicide in this household in the next few minutes if you don't," I slammed open his bedroom door, " _get your lazy ass out of bed!_ "

A mumbled response came from the lump under the piles of blankets.

"I told you that if you stayed up all night then you wouldn't want to get up today. If you don't get up _now_ , I'm going to the bathroom and coming back with a bucket of cold water to pour over you."

"Yeah, right," came his muffled voice.

I raised an eyebrow.

Less than two minutes later, splash echoed through the house, followed by a loud, high-pitched shriek.

The ride to both of the schools didn't take as long as I expected, but I spent over an hour and a half with the Assistant Principals of each school to make sure that Luke and Isaac's – or rather, Thomas and Aiden's – information had gotten to the schools. Not an hour after I arrived home, having every intention of pulling weeds in the garden around the house, a familiar truck was pulling up in the driveway.

Paul had laughed at the expression on my face as he climbed out of his truck. "You said you wanted me to fix the pipes and that's what I'm here to do. I couldn't let you down, could I?"

"No, I guess not," I conceded, nodding in the direction of the house while my hands continued their task of pulling a rather stubborn weed. "Door's open and you know where the kitchen is; have at it."

He gave me a salute. "Aye, aye, Captain."

For a good forty-five minutes I worked in near silence, listening to the wind rustle the leaves of the trees and lightly humming to myself. Despite the fact that I barely received any sleep the night before, I was in an oddly chipper mood. I didn't bother to question it because good moods were few and far between these days; instead I rolled with it, determined that nothing could bring me down.

When the garden looked halfway decent and my back had started to cramp, I stood, stretched, and surveyed my work, making a mental note to get some flowers to add a little color to the area. As I walked away, the grass crunched under my feet and the boards of the porch creaked under my weight.

Paul was flat on his back in the kitchen, long legs stretched out across the tile floor while half of his torso was hidden under the sink. I heard the tinkling of metal clanging against metal, and hoped that he was actually getting things done and that I wouldn't have to replace the pipes again in a few weeks' time. "Almost done?" I asked, heading to the fridge for a bottle of water.

"Nearly," he confirmed. "Just one more pipe to replace and then you should be good. If there are any problems, let me know, but it should work perfectly now."

"Oh, trust me, you'll be the first person I inform."

I could see him eyeing me from under the sink, gaze narrowed in my direction. Eventually he went back to working on the pipes, casually saying, "So you never told me if you liked the legends last night since we left right after they finished."

I chugged a bit of the water before taking a seat at the table, pulling my legs under me as I watched him work. The little plastic lid rolled across the table as I pushed it around with my fingers. "They were interesting; not what I expected. When you said that the Quileute people descended from werewolves, I didn't think you meant that legend says they actually had the ability to change _into_ wolves. I know that the boys enjoyed it, too, even though Thomas fell asleep halfway."

"Claire fell asleep, too," he said. "There's something about the fire and the story and the generally calm atmosphere that just really relaxes you."

"It was nice," I conceded. "It was a bit cold, but that's really to be expected at the beach in the middle of the afternoon in Washington."

"Would be cool, though, don't you think?" he stated casually, pulling himself from under the sink. "To be able to do something like that – change into an animal at will."

I shrugged, taking another sip of my water. "Must be a terrible privilege to have that much power, but I don't know if I'd want it for myself. Besides, I don't know if that was my favorite part."

"Oh?"

"I liked the part about the Third Wife," I replied, shrugging one shoulder. "It was as accurate as it could be because women are always the people that get shit done. It's been the way forever and the human race physically couldn't survive without us."

Paul rolled his eyes but looked the slightest bit disappointed. "Of course that would be the part you hook onto. Honestly, I don't know what I expected, considering I'm talking to Man-Hater of the Year."

"You asked," I pointed out cheerfully, stretching my legs out under the table and gesturing my bottle in his direction. "And you're the one who wanted to be friends with me, so really, you have no one to blame but yourself. If you can't handle the feminist propaganda then don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

"The blatant feminism is part of your charm," he replied sarcastically, tossing his tools back into his toolbox. "I get the whole 'women want equal rights to men' thing, but you've taken it a bit far, don't you think? There's a difference between feminism and misandry, and you're toeing the line pretty heavily."

"Look, I've been put down and shoved aside by men because of my gender ever since I was fourteen," I said. "Either I fight back against the patriarchy or get trampled into the ground."

He took the seat across from me, shaking his head. "That's an absolutely terrible attitude to have."

"Says you. It's gotten me pretty far in life." Before I could stop myself I blurted out, "People actually used to call me the Ice Queen because of my attitude."

He studied me carefully and I felt my cheeks heat. "It fits you." There was a pause. "But I get it. Really, I do. It's not your fault that your circumstances gave you a negative view of the world."

"No, it's not my fault," I agreed slowly, suddenly overcome with the urge to just blurt out all of my feelings and secrets. His expression was so open that I felt as though I could tell him everything at that moment. "But it doesn't change the fact that it happened. I'm… too far gone to go back to having any semblance of normality." I paused, clenching my jaw. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."

"Maybe you need to talk it through with someone," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Someone who won't judge you; someone who's been where you are and understands how you feel."

I smiled bitterly. "And I suppose by someone, you mean yourself?"

"I mean anyone you feel comfortable with," he shot back without missing a beat. "Sure, I'd like it if you'd open up a bit because I'm really trying to figure you out, but if you don't feel like you can talk to me," he frowned, "then someone else."

"Have you talked about it?" I asked immediately, referring to whatever it was that _he_ was hiding from _me_. "Have you talked it – whatever it is that made you the way _you_ are - out with someone?"

He was silent for only half of a moment, awkwardly clearing his throat. "It's a small reservation; most people think they know the whole story, but they don't. My friends know, though," he added thoughtfully. "It's hard to keep important information from people you see every day."

Paul's words were bullshit and we both knew it. Whatever he was hiding was serious – or maybe it wasn't even one thing; maybe it was a multitude of different fuck ups in his life. Who knew? He slept around, so maybe he had some illegitimate kids running around somewhere. He wouldn't be the only one, since we both knew that I had one of my own.

"Funny," I deadpanned. "You don't exactly seem like the type to want to talk about feelings."

"I'm not, but –"

"But you want me to tell you about my life and my secrets?" I tsked, pushing away from the table. "A hypocrite if I ever saw one."

Paul watched me walk around the kitchen, a flash of something dangerous visible for only seconds behind his eyes. "Do you always do that when people talk to you? If the conversation gets on something you don't like, you insult them and change the subject as fast as possible? That's a shitty defense mechanism."

I opened my mouth to give back what would have surely been a snappy retort, but never got the chance. From the back of my jeans came the sound of heavy vibrations and lilting musical notes, startling me and nearly making me drop my bottle of water on the floor. Frowning, I dug my phone out of my pocket and held it up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Are you alone?"

The sound of the familiar voice made me freeze in place. I glanced at Paul; he merely raised an expectant eyebrow at me.

"No, I'm not," I answered calmly, trying to keep the suspicion out of my tone. "Why?"

"Are the kids with you?"

"No. Is everything alright?" I stated, eyes flickering to Paul and down to my shoes. He waited patiently, definitely too far away to hear the conversation.

"Get to where you can't be heard," she shot back immediately. "We need to talk. Now."

"Okay, just hold on for a second, Mr. Tombly," I pulled the phone away from my ear and covered the mouthpiece with my hand. "The files for Aiden are in my room, so I'll just go and get those. Sorry, it's the Principal for the High School," I told Paul, heading through the hallway and toward my bedroom. "He says I forgot to give one of the files."

He eyed me, something in his expression saying that he didn't entirely believe me. "Take your time."

I closed my bedroom door behind me and leaned against the wall, rolling back my shoulders in anticipation. "I'm alone. Tell me what happened."

"We have a huge problem," Mona immediately replied, her tone grim. "I sent you some information through your email that you need to look through as soon as possible. We've finally confirmed that De Palma _is_ going after everyone that was involved in the trial."

"Who died?" I questioned her immediately, squeezing the bridge of my nose to stave off a headache.

"Damien O'Connell," she answered grimly. "His wife found him this morning, face down in their living room; bullet wound to the temple. At first she thought he had committed suicide, but then she saw the note that they had nailed to the wall."

A warning tingled in the back of my mind. Damien O'Connell, De Palma's lawyer? I had gone against Damien in several cases over the years and considered him nothing more than an annoying pest. The fact that he was gone forever shouldn't have struck a chord with me, but it did. My legs felt weak, so I sat myself on the edge of the bed. A note? That seemed random and out of place, too risky for someone as smart as De Palma. The thought of a note sent a chill up my spine, and I swallowed nervously.

"What did the note say? Did he sign it? Are we sure it's from him?"

Silence on the other end of the line.

"Jesus Christ, Mona," I snapped. "You called me for this and now you aren't even going to tell me what it says?"

"Because I know you're going to freak out," she shot back. "If I tell you, you can't panic, okay? Remember, he has absolutely no idea where you are right now and he won't find out where you are if you keep a low profile."

" _What did the note say?_ "

There was the sound of shuffling over the line, as though Monique was sorting through a stack of papers. "He said…" she hesitated, then started her sentence over. "The only thing that was written on the paper was 'I know she's still alive; I'll never stop looking for her.'"

I tensed, my body going ramrod straight. The world dimmed around me and Mona's voice came through the phone muffled, as though I was hearing it through a tunnel.

"Audrey, are you still there? Hello, Audrey? Please say something. Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have told you this, but I though that you deserved to know –"

"When did this happen?" I asked blankly, my voice betraying no emotions whatsoever. "Who else knows?"

"About two days ago. The only people that know are the people working the case, O'Connell's wife, and the officer's working the scene; but even fewer know who the 'she' is. Everyone has their suspicions but there aren't that many possibilities as to who it could be, and my first thought was –"

"That it was me," I finished. I buried my face in my hands and took in a deep breath. "Mona, I swear to _God –_ "

"Calm down," she commanded. "Remember what I said: you're safe."

"I don't care about me!" I yelled. Then, remembering that I had company only a few rooms away, I lowered my voice. "I care about the boys. What's going to happen to them?"

"You're all safe!" she exclaimed in a way that was little more than an annoyance. "All three of you are safe as long as you follow my instructions and blend in; _have_ you been blending in?"

I thought about Emily, the bonfire, and the relentlessly persistent man currently taking up space in my kitchen. "Yes, of course we are."

"Good." A pause. "That's all I really needed to tell you; I sent you the details in an email, along with links to a few news articles that I think you'll want to see since I know you've been avoiding the news like the plague," she said, tone turning business-like. "I just didn't want you to have to hear the big news through a computer screen; thought it might be easier hearing it come from a friend."

"Nothing about this is easy." My voice cracked on the last word and I clamped my mouth shut, rubbing angrily at my eyes. I cleared my throat and sniffed, angry at the world and life and fate and anyone who had anything to do with putting me where I am today. This was hell in living form – having to spend every day wondering if it's going to be your last, always looking over your shoulder and worrying if tomorrow will ever come.

"I know," came Mona's soft reply. "I'm so sorry."

A few more pleasantries were exchanged between the two of us, but soon I had ended the call and tossed the phone onto my bed. I gave myself five minutes of silence, eyes squeezed tight and my head buried in my hands before I forced myself to stand. I happened to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and my face dropped at the distraught expression that I bore. My eyes were puffy and rimmed with red circles, drooping slightly in my sudden despair. I shook my head and rubbed at them with my sleeve, realizing that there wasn't much that I could do to change them now.

Paul wasn't sitting in the kitchen when I came back; instead, he had made his way into the living room and was studying two pictures sitting on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. The first was taken when Luke was a year old and had just learned to walk. The image showed a widely grinning Luke who was in the process of toddling on his shaky chubby legs toward a laughing Isaac, who had only been twelve at the time. The second was the image I had found within the stacks of files in my room, the day Luke was born.

"The day Thomas was born and the first time he walked," I mumbled. Paul didn't move as I spoke, staring down at the pictures as I stared at him. "I was home that day and managed to catch it on camera; after that, it wasn't much of teaching him how to walk as it was getting him to slow down and stop bumping into things. I lost count of the lamps or mugs that he's bumped into and broken over the years."

But Paul's gaze wasn't focused on that picture anymore. "This is the only picture of you that I've seen in the entire house." The question behind his statement was unspoken, but it permeated through the air.

I shrugged and approached him, leaning against the back of the couch as he moved onto another photo - this one had only been taken last year, when Luke's former school had given his class a 'graduation' for successfully completing kindergarten. He waved at the camera, clad in a tiny, dark blue graduation gown and hat. "I don't like having photos of myself taken. Pictures are supposed to help you remember happy memories – my happiest memories are of my boys, so those are the pictures that I keep. Besides, I'm usually the one taking the pictures instead of modeling in front of the camera."

Finally he glanced over, and did a double take. His gaze narrowed suspiciously at my red eyes and puffy cheeks. "Katherine, are you okay?"

"Everything is completely fine," I said simply. And it wasn't exactly a lie; for Katherine Montgomery everything _was_ okay, but Paul didn't know about Audrey Perdue and the panic she was facing at that moment – and he never would. "Absolutely, perfectly fine."

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "You look like you were –"

"You ask a lot of nosy questions that really aren't any of your business," I interrupted, effectively cutting him off. "I'm fine; everything is fine."

"If it wasn't, would you tell me?"

My mouth fell open and shut at the unexpected question. I studied him carefully, and it was at that moment that I realized what, exactly, our stare-down was: a battle of wills, him daring me to be honest because we both knew the true answer to that question. "No," I found myself replying softly, looking away from his stern gaze. "No, I wouldn't."

He didn't say a word.

"Does that bother you?" I asked curiously, before he even had a chance to speak. "Does it bother you that I wouldn't tell you if something was wrong?"

"More than it should," he admitted. "Why? _Is_ there something wrong?"

"No," I answered immediately.

"You're lying."

I didn't bother to correct him. Instead, I changed the subject. "I think you need to go. I have a lot of work I need to finish here, then I have to go grocery shopping and get ready to pick up the boys."

I expected him to argue, but to my surprise he merely nodded. "I actually have to work in a few hours, so you're right; I should get going."

"Wow," I said before I could stop myself, following him over to the door. "Do I actually _not_ have to have you forcibly removed from the premises?"

He gave me a sour look. "You aren't funny."

I leaned against the doorframe and crossed my arms over his chest while he stood on the porch. The muscles in his arms vibrated as he moved, flexing his fingers. "So where do you work?"

The corners of his lips twitched upward. "I work for the council doing things around the rez."

"Sounds interesting."

Paul shrugged. "It pays the bills, and it has its benefits."

"Oh? What kind of benefits?"

"Guess you'll just have to stick around and find out." He retreated off of the porch and headed over to his truck, giving a wave of his hand in farewell.

I shook my head as I watched him leave, only waiting until his truck had rolled out of the driveway before I shut the door.

Playtime was over for the day. Now, I had work to do.

Immediately making my way over to my laptop, I typed in my password, pulled up the Internet browser, and logged into my email account. There were several pieces of junk mail that I quickly deleted, before I clicked on the message from Monique's fake account. The message was titled, 'You NEED to see this immediately.'

The inside of the message was blank, but there were three attachments. The first two were pictures taken directly from the crime scene – one of the hastily scribbled and unsigned note – _I'll never stop looking for her; I know she's still alive -_ and the other of Damien O'Connell facedown on his kitchen floor, a splatter of dark liquid seeping around his body. At the sight of the gruesome image, I winced and continued onto the next link – a news article from _The_ _Washington Post_ dated yesterday.

' _Highly acclaimed lawyer Damien O'Connell, well known for being the defense attorney of suspected convict and recent runaway Frankie De Palma, was found dead in his home in Kent yesterday. His wife, who was the first to discover Mr. O'Connell, was escorted from the premises in protective custody, and sources say that she was on the verge of hysteria._

 _As the first responders and police commissioner refused to comment on the case, an inside source has managed to let it slip that Mr. O'Connell died from a bullet wound in his right temple. Whether or not this case is connected to other murders in the area is unknown, though there is much suspicion that Mr. O'Connell has merely become a victim of his previous defendant's anger just like his colleague – the esteemed Miss Audrey Perdue._

 _For those who don't know, Miss Perdue was the attorney in charge of putting Mr. De Palma in prison before his escape. She – and her teenage brother (17) and young son (6) – passed away several weeks after his escape in a fire that destroyed the entirety of their D.C. apartment. The cause of the explosion is said to have been a faulty generator, but there is suspicion of foul play. The police have also refused to comment on this case._

 _Services for the deceased will take place in Rose Hill Cemetery in two weeks' time.'_

I shoved my computer shut without finishing the article and not bothering to close out the browser. _I'll never stop looking for her; I know she's still alive._ Rubbing angrily at my already itchy eyes, I pushed myself back from the table and gathered up my keys to head to the store, bracing myself for the rest of the day.

After all, there was no use in crying over something that I couldn't control.

oOo

A light rain was falling from the sky when I went to pick up Luke and Isaac from school.

"So how was it?" I asked eagerly. "Did you both make any new friends, did you enjoy the classes?"

"Most of the stuff we learned today were things I learned back at Lakewood Prep," Isaac replied. "So there were a few times that I almost fell asleep, but the good news is that I already knew most of the material. And I made a few friends, but not many because everyone looked at me like I was an alien."

"They don't get new students very often, so they were all probably really interested in you," I suggested. "I'm sure it'll pass sooner or later when something more interesting comes along; then the attention will be completely gone from you. What about you, Thomas? Did you make any new friends?"

"Yeah, mommy!" he exclaimed, poking his head forward in between the two seats. "I made lots of new friends and everyone was really nice. Miss Williams said that we're going to start going over our math stuff tomorrow."

"That's good," I replied. "Why don't we order pizza tonight to celebrate your first day? And I bought some ice cream when I went grocery shopping today, so we can have ice cream for dessert."

Luke's eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "Ice cream?"

"Yeah, hon," I reassured him cheerfully, pulling off the highway and down our driveway. "Ice cream."

Isaac gave me a strange look, as though he could tell what I was thinking. "We never have dessert and you're in an awfully cheerful mood," he stated casually, though his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Did anything interesting happen to _you_ while we were gone today? Anything that I should know about?"

Damn. I was too naïve to think that he wouldn't notice how tense I was at that moment; he was much more intelligent than I gave him credit for. When I was sure that Luke wasn't paying attention, I muttered, "Paul came over today and fixed the kitchen sink. We were talking and I received a phone call from Mona in the middle of our conversation."

Isaac's eyes shot up to his hairline. "Paul was at our house with you? By _yourself?_ "

As I put the car in park, I turned my entire body to face him. "Seriously? Out of that whole statement, the one thing that pops out at you is the fact that Paul was over at our house?"

"Well, I'm kind of shocked," he said slowly, looking at me as though I were some foreign creature that had replaced his sensible sister. "Whenever you had to be alone with a guy that's, you know, five times your size, you usually freak out and go ballistic."

"The fact that Paul was over at our house doesn't matter!" I spluttered. "Forget I even said anything," I scowled, shoving open the door and hopping down onto the hard gravel. "Just forget I opened my mouth – I try to tell you something completely serious and you miss the point entirely."

"Wait a second!" he called out, chasing after me when I walked hand in hand with Luke toward the house. "Hold on, what did Mona say when she called? Do they have any leads? Are we going to be able to head home anytime soon?"

Home; did any of us even know what that was anymore? I felt guilty suddenly, at the innocent eagerness that was encompassing Isaac's expression, because _I_ knew the truth. Even if De Palma was caught and imprisoned for good, we would never be able to stop running. If he weren't the one hunting us, it would be someone in his family – whoever helped him plan this escape attempt in the first place.

There would never be any peace, never going back to where we had come from before. This was going to encompass the rest of our existence.

I ruffled Luke's hair. "Sweetie, why don't you go play in your room for a while so that your uncle and I can talk."

"Okay, mommy."

I watched him as he ran off toward the stairs, oblivious to the danger that lay around him. "I know I really shouldn't be telling you this because I don't want to scare you, but you're old enough to know the truth. De Palma killed someone else."

Isaac tossed his schoolbag on the kitchen table, collapsing in one of the chairs. His expectant expression sunk, and in that moment, it seemed as though he had aged forty years. "Anyone we know?"

"Damien O'Connell."

His nose scrunched. "His defense attorney? That guy you always complained about whenever you had a big case?"

"The one and only," I said, collapsing in the seat across from him. "I won't give you the details, but his wife found him in their kitchen a few days ago."

"Why would he kill the guy who tried to defend him?" he asked, confused. "That doesn't make any sense whatsoever. Mr. O'Connell tried to get him out of prison; why would he go after him?"

I shrugged, reaching out to pat his hand in a comforting gesture. "Maybe because he failed to get the charges dismissed? We'll never be able to understand what goes on in the minds of those people."

"But we're safe, right? We don't have anything to worry about. Everyone else thinks that we're…"

 _Dead._

"Yeah," I said, not sounding as reassured as I would have hoped. "We're all completely safe here."

oOo

 _Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews! Keep them coming - also, let me know some things you would like to see happen in the future!_

 _IMPORTANT: As of now, Paul does not know anything that's going on with Audrey. He's suspicious - as we all are - but he doesn't know the basic details. No, that will come around... maybe four more chapters or so? That's basically when all hell breaks loose for Audrey and Paul when he (and Sam and Jared) overhear some rather... pertinent information._

 _Next Time:_ _a notice from the Illinois State Penitentiary, reminiscing about pregnancy blues, a half-hearted invitation to the zoo, and a playful death threat to a family member._


	11. An Invitation to the Zoo

_IMPORTANT:_ _GO VOTE ON THE POLL! It involves the gender/name of Emily's baby because, of course, that's going to be coming up soon!_

 _Also, this chapter is dedicated to my 100th reviewer - PruRose. Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing and leaving their comments and suggestions; you're all absolutely fantastic! Keep it up!_

oOo

Chapter 11:

" _Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold." – Zelda Fitzgerald_

 _5 Years Ago:_

 _Curled up on the uncomfortable sofa/makeshift bed in her rundown apartment west of the Washington Highlands, Audrey Perdue sat in the dark and continued to type her essay on the five year old laptop. It was late, almost two in the morning, but she felt completely awake in her little bundle of blankets and schoolbooks, going back and forth between typing up information on the human memory and nibbling on cold, leftover French fries._

' _If you were to ask virtually any American who was older than an adolescent in 1963 what they were doing when they heard about the assassination of John F. Kennedy, the odds are very good that they will be able to tell you a great deal of details about where they were, what they were doing, who they were with, or even what the weather was like. It may be easier to recall what you were doing at the first moment you witnessed passenger jets crash into the twin towers in New York on September 11_ _th_ _, 2001. This phenomenon or early vivid recall has to do with extreme emotion or uniqueness in a situation, and is called a flashbulb memory. Such memories are so vivid and have such an affect on our everyday lives that it is as if our brains have recorded an imprint –'_

 _A piercing cry cut through the still and stale air inside the apartment, effectively making Audrey cut off with a sigh mid-sentence. She immediately shoved aside her laptop and walked over to the cradle that took up most of the space on the other side of the room, peering down at the baby inside it. He was small, tinier than most, and had a head of thick and unruly black hair that was so dark it looked like ink. The baby, Lucas Perdue, stretched his chubby arms in the air and gurgled at the sight of his mother, lip quivering and tears running down his face as he begged for attention._

 _Audrey picked him up and cradled him to her chest, listening to his soft whimpers while bouncing in place and hoping that he would soon go back to sleep. She hummed in the softest voice she could muster, bare feet padding around in circles on the stained, carpeted floors. The thin layer of curly hair on his head tickled her chin as she ran a finger across his cheek. His eyes opened and closed several times, fighting sleep and wanting to stay awake. He was a nosy child even at this age, always wanting to be aware of what was going on even though he probably didn't comprehend anything he was seeing. He yawned; one hand clutched at a piece of her hair, and his head fell into the crook of her neck._

 _She kept rocking him for several moments just to reassure that he was actually asleep and wouldn't start wailing the moment he was put down. A green and yellow blanket was placed over his body as she laid him down, automatically fixing the new stuffed bunny he had just received as a present._

 _Audrey collapsed back on her spot on the couch after placing a kiss on his forehead, eyeing the small stack of mail on the coffee table that had been steadily growing for over three days. Taking in a deep breath of preparation, she picked up the stack and flipped through it. The first three were unpaid bills – one from the landlord and two involving her student loans that basically encompassed her entire life nowadays – and the next four were simply junk mail that she immediately tossed aside._

 _The last, a very official-looking cream-colored envelope bearing the state seal of Illinois, had a return address of 578 Jefferson Lane, Callen County, Illinois – Illinois State Penitentiary. A burst of fear went up her spine at the familiar address, shivers going up her arms, and she quickly slid her finger under the flap and opened the letter._

' _Dear Miss Perdue,' started the letter as she skimmed through it quickly. 'We are writing to inform you - due to your involvement with a previous arrest report and a stipulation in your restraining order - of the passing of one Mr. Gregory Joseph Prescott, on the 28_ _th_ _of October of this year. Mr. Prescott received injuries during a prison yard fight, and our medical staff was regrettably unable to help him in time._

 _We await your response to this letter in order to deal with funeral preparations. If there is no reply to this letter through mail or by use of the number below, we will go about preparations and send you another letter regarding time of cremation. If you wish to have another family member or acquaintance handle the services, call the number below.'_

' _Deepest Sympathies,_

 _Earl Camden, Warden'_

 _Silence._

 _A burst of hysterical laughter left her lips._

 _Audrey cleared her throat, gently placed the letter back into its envelope, and sat back in her seat to stare blankly at the far wall. Then she couldn't help herself. Loud laughter surged throughout the tiny apartment, noisy enough to wake up the baby she had just put to sleep, but she couldn't bring herself to care._

' _Of course, of course, of course,' she thought, burying her hands while tears ran down her face, the sound of her laughter rising above the crying from Luke. 'Even now that bastard still got the better of me. Always, always, always getting the better of me. In the end, he won, because he didn't get to spend the rest of his life rotting in a cell. No, he got the easy way out.'_

 _She ripped up the paper in tiny little pieces and tossed them to the floor, determination making her straighten her spine._

' _I'm alive; he's not._ _ **I'm**_ _the one that won this, and I will not let myself fall into some stupor just because he did not have to sit through his full sentence.'_

 _And with that, Audrey pushed back her shoulders, clenched her jaw, and stood to go and comfort Luke._

 _She had promised herself she would not cry a single tear over that man ever again, and by God, she would stick to that promise._

oOo

It soon became clear to me – though really, I should have known it all along – that Paul absolutely loved making a nuisance of himself.

Not that I minded, though I would never admit that out loud. He just had this way of randomly appearing when I least expected him, usually right after I cooked lunch for myself. Honestly, he started showing up so often that I started making meals for two just in case he happened to pop by for a visit – and usually, he did.

It got to be a routine that I expected almost daily and looked forward to even against my better judgment. Despite my qualms about Paul's attitude – and really, about Paul in general – I found that he was growing on me, idiocy, stubbornness, and all. For over a month, I saw him at least once every other day. We would just talk (argue, really) or I would convince him to help me move furniture or do other work around the house, and to his credit he never complained. Not even once.

Our conversations and small-talk did not go deep into topics that I would usually avoid. Paul seemed to have taken another route in the 'get to know you' scheme, and instead, our talks focused on random, everyday things. We both avoided questions that involved our pasts, but he asked me what my favorite color was (blue), my dream job (First female President – he chuckled at that one but didn't really seem surprised), my favorite book (a novel called _Gideon's Trumpet*_ that he had never heard of, which led to an hour long conversation on the book and its contents), my favorite movie (too many to count), favorite type of dessert (red velvet cake), favorite song (didn't have one), and favorite flower (which I begrudgingly admitted were tulips, much to his smug delight.)

In return, I learned just as much about him. He hadn't picked up a book since high school (which wasn't a surprise), his favorite color was green, and he didn't have time to watch many movies but he was partial to action flicks and 80s music. He loved food, too, that seemed to be a big one, and was open to trying anything except for sushi – which I found appalling, since sushi was a delicacy to me – and his idea of a perfect meal seemed to be entirely made up of a giant steak and chocolate cake.

And yet, through all of the artificial facts that we spewed back and forth to each other in some sort of half-assed attempt to learn more about one another, I learned the most when I was simply observing him. I noticed that he took his coffee black but rarely ever drank it because, as he put it, he could never concentrate after drinking a cup. When he was stressed he ran a hand through his hair and his whole body seemed to shiver – especially when he was angry. I noticed that always stood with his shoulders back, ramrod straight like a soldier, he frowned when he was thoughtful, his fists always clenched when he was arguing with me, and he never _ever_ left the house without making sure that I wasn't mad at him.

And finally, I noticed that his whole face seemed to light up on those rare moments I saw him laugh.

It really got to the point where I started walking around the house with this stupid grin on my face at all times – something I didn't notice until Isaac had pointed it out to me. It was a real problem. Paul Lahote had officially pushed his way into my life and… I liked it.

But that was a problem for another day. Today was supposed to be a relatively easygoing day, free of Paul – for the most part, because I was sure he would turn up at some point. I found myself seated at Emily's Uley's kitchen table with a glass of water in hand, watching amusedly as the pregnant woman puttered about the room without a care in the world. I had found out that Emily had just entered her eighth month of her pregnancy, she was due sometime in mid-October, and that she was entirely too ready to give birth just so she wouldn't have to get up at two in the morning every night to pee.

"I wasn't a big fan of being pregnant, either," I confessed, spinning my glass between my fingertips as the sound of laughing children came from the direction of the living room. Luke had practically begged me every day since the bonfire to plan a day that he could see Claire again, and I finally managed to call Emily to plan something so that the two children could play. Suffice to say, he had been ecstatic. "I had awful cases of morning sickness around my first trimester, swollen ankles _all_ the time, and I had these headaches that would just constantly pound into my skull. It was the worst."

"I was lucky enough to not get any huge cases of morning sickness," Emily mused thoughtfully, tapping her fingers against her chin. "My big problem is sleeping. I usually sleep on my stomach, but," she gestured to her belly, "the little one makes that a bit difficult. Between the fact that I always have to get up at random hours to use the bathroom, and because the baby loves to kick in the middle of the night, I barely get any rest."

"Don't get me wrong," I said. "Being pregnant has its perks – especially the end result. To be honest with you, the moment I held Thomas for the first time it was like I completely forgot all of the pain. I guess that's just nature's way of giving women the courage to have more of them eventually."

Emily casually took a sip of her orange juice, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. "Do you ever want to have another?"

It was my fault, really, since I had led the conversation in this direction; I shouldn't have been surprised that this was the next question that she asked. A huff of air left my mouth, and I quickly shook my head, resisting the urge to frown and struggling to act casual. "Probably not," I quickly replied, "I mean, I basically raised Aiden, so it's already like I have two kids instead of just one. Like I said, I love them both more than anything else in the world, but I don't know if I want another one. Thomas wasn't exactly…" I swallowed, looking away and cursing myself for not thinking before I spoke. "Planned."

Emily tapped her fingers against the rim of the table and shifted in her spot, knowing that we were heading into a sensitive topic. "I want to ask," she started hesitantly, "but if you don't want to tell me, that's fine. What happened to his father?"

 _He's hopefully burning in the fiery pits of hell._ "He's not in my life anymore. Haven't seen him in years." I frowned at the pitying look on Emily's face. "I'm better off, trust me." As a series of questions passed over Emily's face, I quickly racked my brain for something else to talk about. "Oh, before I forget, I wanted to ask: Aiden apparently has plans with Seth, Collin, and Brady this weekend, so I was planning on taking Thomas to Port Angeles to go to the zoo. He wanted to know if we could bring Claire."

Thankfully, Emily held back her questions and nodded eagerly. "Oh, that would be fine. I'm sure she would love that. Poor thing is usually surrounded by a bunch of adults so I think it will be good for her to be around more people her own age. Will you be able to handle them both by yourself?" She smiled. "Because I'm sure that there's a certain someone who would be _more_ than happy to go with you."

I frowned, knowing exactly where her thoughts were straying and figuring that I should nip that thinking in the bud before it got out of hand. "It shouldn't be a problem handling the kids by myself. I've done it before and I don't think I'll have any trouble with them – they're pretty well-behaved."

Behind us, the timer on the oven beeped and she stood to go take out the casserole she had made for lunch. "You said you were from New York, right? They have a big zoo in Central Park, don't they? Did you go there a lot with the boys?"

"It's a huge one," I recalled from statements of friends that had visited the state years ago. "We went but not often because we never really had the time. But Thomas loves animals so I thought it would be a nice treat since he's been doing so well in school the last few weeks. I was worried that he wouldn't adjust, but I was pleasantly surprised."

"It's good that he's doing well," she nodded. Emily ran her finger over the rim of her glass and looked away, lost in thought. "I've been meaning to ask," she said curiously, tone almost urgent, "were you born in New York or did you move there?"

"I was born in Ohio and moved to New York for college," I explained half-heartedly, glad the subject had taken a turn and attempting to be as generic as possible. Some of the statements I made were true, but only partially. "My dad died from a heart attack a few weeks after I turned eleven, but he always said that he wanted me to follow my dreams when it came to college, and I did."

"Hm." The pan made a clicking sound as Emily placed it on the stove, moving back to her place at the table. "I grew up on the Makah Reservation about an hour from here, but La Push has always been like home to me," she stated, leaning her head on her hand. "This is where my family is, you know?"

"I completely understand," I nodded. "I suppose that sometimes you just have to go where your heart takes you."

"Did your heart tell you to come here?" Emily asked curiously.

I looked down at the table and scratched against a mark in the wood with my fingernail. "Following my heart hasn't really turned out well for me in the past, but my head told me that it was long past time for a change. La Push was just… convenient."

"Katherine," Emily chewed on her lip and stopped herself from continuing her sentence. Then she reached out a hand and placed it on top of mine, giving it a pat. "I know we haven't known each other long, but I consider you to be a friend of mine. If there's something you need to vent about, I'm all ears."

The very thought of telling Emily the truth was humorous, but her sincere kindness was enough to keep me grounded from laughing. "That means a lot, but I don't really have anything I need to talk about," I stated, giving her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "But if I do, you'll be the first one I call."

"Paul is good to talk to, as well," Emily stated without missing a beat, sending a sly look in my direction. "Like I said at the bonfire, he _really_ likes you. Honestly, I've never seen him act this way about anyone else."

My cup made a clinking sound as I placed it back on the table, and I turned to face her with a steady determination and seriousness in my expression. "Emily, I've seen people like Paul before – in New York, they're a dime a dozen. I have no intention of falling all over myself for… whatever it is he thinks he has that's so hot." I rolled my eyes. "Paul and I have a fine, relatively bland friendship, which is more than I've given to anyone in a long time. I enjoy his company - sometimes - but have no intention of becoming another notch on his belt – as he damn well knows. I'm fine with maintaining a friendship but it's not going to go any farther than that." _No matter how much I may want it to._

To her credit, Emily didn't even look fazed by my obvious accusations against Paul's past behavior and his treatment of women. We both knew that it was pointless to deny it – his type was known even in rural and out of the way places like La Push, and his awful behavior wasn't exactly Washington's 'Best Kept Secret.' "I get what you're saying," she said, sounding serious and a tiny smidgen disappointed, "but it's different with you."

My skepticism must have shown on my face because Emily continued, "I know it seems hard to believe, but trust me when I tell you that Paul would _never_ use you then leave you. He's not the same person he was before you moved here, everyone's noticed. I haven't even heard him speak about another woman since he met you, which is a feat in and of itself because usually you can never get him to shut up."

Emily's funny comment did its job – I laughed, and the tension seemed to drain out of the conversation. After the moment was over, Emily's face fell again. "Don't judge him too harshly," she said softly. "Paul has been through a lot in his life – his parents weren't really the best examples of healthy relationships, if you get my meaning."

That was news to me. I knew that something had to have made Paul the way he was, but I didn't have any confirmation that it was his parents until now. "I understand that," I stated, honestly knowing what she meant. "And I'm the last person to judge when it comes to shitty relationships or families, but just because a person has had a rough past doesn't give you the right to be a dick. Having a bad past explains bad actions, but it doesn't excuse them."

"Talk to Paul about it. Ask him," Emily nodded assuredly, as if this tiny demand would solve all of our problems. "If he explained it all to you – _everything_ to you – I'm sure you would understand."

I held up my hands and shook my head. "Hey, it's none of my business."

"Ask Paul about it!" she insisted. "I'm sure he would –"

"Ask Paul about what?"

Both Emily and I had to have jumped half a foot in the air at the sudden sound of the familiar, masculine voice.

"Jesus," I snapped, glaring up at the subject of our conversation as he moved to help himself to a plate of casserole, followed quickly by Sam and Jared. "You should wear a bell around your neck so you don't startle people every time you enter a damn room, you douchebag."

"I'll put it on my To-Do list," he rolled his eyes. "Now, ask me what?"

Emily managed to catch my gaze and her eyes showed panic; she surreptitiously sent me a slight shake of her head, and I knew that the topic of Paul's parents or his other past struggles weren't really something that we should suddenly bring up at the dinner table. "We were just…" I winced, and continued against my better judgment, "talking about how I'm taking Thomas and Claire to the zoo on Saturday and I wanted to know if you would… join me?"

Paul looked just as surprised as Sam and Jared at my sudden invitation, and Emily raised an eyebrow in my direction but looked positively delighted. I sent her a desperate glance that said I clearly had no idea what else to say and for her to help me, but she pointedly ignored my gaze even though she _knew_ that she was the one I was trying to help in the first place.

Then the infuriating man merely gave me a smug smile. "I knew this would start to happen. You've gotten so used to my company that you don't see me for a day and you realize that you want to spend more time with me."

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms over my chest. "Yes, I woke up this morning and thought to myself, 'Hm, why not make my life a living hell by inviting La Push's biggest jackass to go to the zoo with me on Saturday?' If you don't want to come, fine. It was just an offer. I'll have a bit of peace this weekend without you there."

"You know, I think my schedule actually just cleared up," he stated cheerfully, taking the empty seat beside me. "What time were you planning on leaving?"

"Early, since it'll take a while to get to Port Angeles," I frowned, resisting the urge to suddenly rescind my invitation. "Maybe 7:30."

"I'll be there."

I rolled my eyes and pushed back from the table, pointedly eyeing my watch. "Well it's getting a bit late so I should really be getting home. It was nice seeing you all again," I said to Sam, Emily, and Jared, who were all staring at me in amusement. "And you," I pointedly gave Paul a stern look. "Your ass is at my house at 7:15 Saturday morning, or I'm leaving without you."

"I'll be there at seven," he said, his sultry eyes clearly portraying a challenge, as though he were saying, ' _Can you do any better than that?_ '

God, this man would be the death of me.

oOo

The sun was just starting to set by the time that we arrived home, and Luke was practically tuckered out by his fun times playing with Claire. Though that didn't stop him from relaying every single second to me on the drive home, acting as though I hadn't been there and kept a watchful eye over him as he played. For some reason, I found that I didn't care. Honestly, I was just happy that he had made another friend. He seemed to be happy about that, too.

And for the first time, I realized that maybe this new home wouldn't be as bad as I had originally thought it would be. Luke and Isaac were adjusting better than I ever could have dreamed, were making friends at school and on the reservation, and were both doing well in their classes. Maybe, just maybe, we could actually do this – actually have a good life here in this tiny town.

"Mommy?"

I looked up from where I was checking over Isaac's homework – that the idiot had waited until the very last minute to do – and glanced at the young boy surrounded by the bubbles in the bathtub and staring at me expectantly. "All done?" I asked, already reaching for a fluffy towel to wrap around him. "Let's get you out of the water before you get all wrinkly and into your pajamas."

Luke automatically reached up his arms and stretched toward me, dropping his plastic toy dinosaurs onto the floor beside the tub. He stood patiently as I dried him off, dripping water on the mat below his feet. He giggled as I ruffled his wet hair, wrapping him tight with the towel and carrying him over to his room. "Can I wear my superhero pajamas tonight?"

"The Hulk ones?" I questioned, digging in his dresser drawers with one hand to find the pajamas in question. "These?" I held up a pair of thick children's nightclothes, dotted with images of one of his favorite cartoon characters.

"Yes," he said, tugging them out of my grip then wriggling around in my grasp. "Down, mommy."

"Okay, hold on, hold on, you little worm," I grumbled, placing him on his feet. "Come on, let's get you in bed before you catch a cold."

He didn't struggle as I helped him put on his clothes, and rested his head on my shoulder when I moved to put him in his bed. "I like it here, mommy," he stated matter-of-factly, patting the top of his blankets to emphasize his words.

"Do you?" I inquired distractedly, shoving Mr. Hoppy on the blankets next to him. "I thought you didn't like the wolves around here? I thought you couldn't sleep when they howled?"

He shook his head, giving me a look that clearly said I had no idea what I was talking about. "No, Claire says that the wolves are really good and they help protect people. She said that they were her friends."

I gave his head a pat, knowing that his words were just the antics of a child. "Of course they are, sweetheart."

"Can I be friends with the wolves, too?"

"I don't know, honey," I replied, moving to plug in his nightlight – a crescent moon shape that sent a ribbon of light over the walls. "I'm sure you can, but you can't go out and look for them, okay? Especially without mommy's supervision; the woods are really dangerous at night."

His eyes sparkled. "But Claire says that the wolves don't live in the woods!" he urged eagerly. "She says that they live in houses like people and can talk to each other in their heads like Iron Man talks to Jarvis!"

At the mention of psychic wolves and Iron Man's artificial intelligence system, I knew it was time to shut this conversation down and make him go to sleep. "Of course they do, hon. Now it's time for bed, okay? You have school tomorrow and then on Saturday, we're going to the zoo with Claire and Mr. Paul."

Luke immediately perked up. "Mr. Paul is coming?"

I sighed. For some reason that I couldn't possibly fathom, the boy took a strange liking to the older native man. " _Yes_ , he'll be coming with us," I confirmed, leaning forward to place a kiss on his forehead. "Bedtime. Get some sleep."

There was a brief pause. "Mommy?"

I turned, halfway out the door. " _Yes,_ Thomas?"

"Is Mr. Paul your boyfriend? Is he going to be my new daddy?"

I gaped, frozen at the unexpected statements. "Did you hear that from your uncle?" At his nod, I cleared my throat and shook my head. "No, sweetie. Mr. Paul is _not_ my boyfriend and he is _not_ going to be your new daddy. But," I muttered aloud as I shut the door, "you'll be in the market for a new uncle because I'm about to kill the one you have."

oOo

 _* **Gideon's Trumpet** is an inspiring novel by Anthony Lewis describing the story behind Gideon vs. Wainwright, a case in which the Supreme Court of the United States ruled that criminal defendants have a Constitutional right to an attorney even if they cannot afford it. It was a landmark case that changed the judicial system forever, and I highly recommend it for anyone who's interested in the topic!_

 _IMPORTANT AGAIN:_ _Go cast your vote on the poll!_

 _Next Time:_ _a long day out, hilarious mishaps in the petting zoo, Paul's confession, and a reluctant self-admittance about those pesky things called 'feelings.'_


	12. Relationship Progress in the Petting Zoo

_GO VOTE ON THE POLL, LOVELIES!_

Chapter 12:

 _"One must learn to love, and go through a good deal of suffering to get to it, and the journey is always toward the other soul." - D.H. Lawrence_

In what was surely an attempt to annoy me to no end, Paul pulled up in our driveway with Claire in the backseat of his truck at ten minutes to seven. Despite this fact and the infuriatingly cheerful look on his face, the first comment that managed to make it out of my mouth was, "I'm shocked that you actually managed to put on a shirt today."

And I _was_ shocked. Almost every time I had seen the man in the past he had been shirtless and wearing cargo shorts or cutoffs. Now he was wearing a pair of jeans, a tight polo shirt, and his trademark smug grin. He set Claire on her feet and I moved aside, gesturing for the young girl to go inside to see Luke, who was just finishing up his breakfast. "Why?" Paul inquired, trailing after me into the house like a lonely puppy. "Disappointed?"

"Yes," I immediately responded, automatically taking Luke's empty plate to the sink as he chatted with Claire about some nonsense, "but not for the reasons you think. I'm more disappointed that I actually have to spend the day with you."

"You know you missed me," Paul replied, sounding too sure of himself for my liking as he leaned against the doorframe and Luke's voice greeted, "Hi, Mr. Paul!"

Paul grinned, reaching out to ruffle Luke's hair. "Hey, little man. Are you excited to go to the zoo today?"

Luke nodded eagerly. "I want to see the elephants and giraffes!"

"Me too!" interjected Claire eagerly, practically bouncing in place in her excitement.

I watched as they pulled each other into another conversation, speaking so quickly that I could barely even comprehend what they were saying.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around as much the last few days as I usually am," Paul resumed our previous conversation, moving across the room to lean against the counter next to me as I scrubbed at the dishes. "I've been doing my work for the council, then I'm busy with a personal project I'm working on for Sam."

"You've basically been at the house every other day, Paul," I pointed out in near exasperation. "It's not like you haven't been making your presence known." There was a pause, and I eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of project are you working on for Sam?"

"I'm making him and Emily a crib for when the new baby comes," he explained. "Hand carved and much better quality than anything they could possibly find in stores. I've been stalling on finishing it so I made myself do a bit of work on it." He cleared his throat. "Oh, just don't tell Emily – it's supposed to be a surprise for her."

"My lips are sealed," I assured him. "Do you do that often? Make cribs for people, I mean?"

"I dabble," he defended himself, eyes sparkling. "I make furniture when I have the time. Not really something that I do for a living, but it's kind of a hobby of mine. It's relaxing."

"Well I'll be damned," I said, feigning shock. "Who knew you had any sort of creative bone in your body."

"We all have our little things that we enjoy," he shot back. "Mine just happens to be wood carving. What about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"What do you enjoy? What kind of hobbies do you have?"

I opened my mouth to respond but no sound came out. Did I even have a hobby? The first few years of my life, I was too young to have a hobby – more interested with playing with dolls instead of sharpening my skills with art or stamp collecting. After I escaped from home, I didn't have the time to come up with a hobby, and after I graduated college my life was swamped with work. "I don't have one," I admitted, staring down at my hands as they scrubbed harshly at the already clean plate.

"None? At all? There's nothing you liked to do when you were younger?"

"Nope, not really." I wiped my hands on a nearby dishtowel. "I always liked to read. And I write a lot – stories and such – or at least, I try to write. It's like I never really have the time to sit down and do things that I enjoy because I'm always so busy doing more important things."

"Maybe you should make time for the things you enjoy."

I smirked wryly, giving him a sideways glance. "It's not as easy as it sounds. Doesn't sound as easy for you, either. I don't know how you have time to do anything at home since you're almost always here or working."

"Well I have to make time for my best girl, don't I?"

I raised an eyebrow, turning fully to face him. "Best girl?"

"Only girl," he clarified, almost cheerfully.

"Wonderful," I drawled, though I couldn't fight the contentment that swept through me. "I'm positively flattered."

" _I'm_ flattered that you haven't kicked me out yet."

"It's still early," I shrugged, but when I looked up at his expression, I was smiling. "Play your cards right and we might last an entire day without arguing."

oOo

When I was ten years old, I used to do this thing where I would hide behind walls or trashcans or in cabinets, then jump out as soon as one of my parents would pass and scare the hell out of them. Ten year old me thought that this was the funniest thing in the world, and I would just laugh hysterically whenever I managed to make one of my family members jump.

Two years ago, my opponent in a court case was actually forced to defend someone who thought it would be a good idea to come to court completely intoxicated. The judge had managed to get us through the proceedings, but I spent the entirety of that case resisting the urge to snicker. When the verdict was delivered with an inevitable 'guilty' decision, the defendant became so pissed that he actually flipped off the judge and then had the absolute gall to pull down his pants and _moon_ him. I laughed so hard that water came out of my nose.

Despite these hilarious moments and the many laughs I've had over the years, I don't believe I've ever laughed so hard in my entire life than the day that I went to the zoo with Paul.

Let me explain. You see, the zoo in Port Angeles was quite small compared to other zoos since it was in a smaller city, but they still managed to have a petting zoo where parents could take their usually frightened and crying children to go and pet a docile sheep or goat. It was good for the adults who were usually exhausted and wanted a break from their rambunctious children, choosing to let the toddlers run free in the gated area while they sat down in the shade and played on their phones. The petting zoo was our fourth stop of the day, right after we passed through the reptile room, the flamingos, and the elephants. We were originally going to pass it up in favor of going to see the monkeys, but both Luke and Claire nearly cried at the thought of not being able to go and touch one of the animals. So we went.

For about five minutes, everything was fine. I took each child by the hand while Paul went to go put their little hippopotamus shaped buggy to the side, since we couldn't take it into the exhibit. The two toddlers were ecstatic, both of them eagerly petting a bored-looking sheep with white wool stained brown from the dirt under our feet.

Then Paul stepped into the little gated area, took two steps toward us, _and the sheep took off in the opposite direction faster than I could even say, "What the hell?"_

Paul frowned at me as he came to a stop beside our tiny baffled trio. Several other occupants of the area looked confusedly in our direction, then toward the sheep that was making nervous noises as it paced back and forth in the corner near the fence. "What did you do to the sheep?"

"That was really odd," I said with a frown. "We didn't do anything. It just ran off."

At first I simply thought it was a fluke, and gestured for Luke and Claire to go near a goat that was standing several feet away, chewing on a pile of grass; I followed them and Paul followed me. The goat was fine for several moments, not even looking up when tiny hands started grabbing at its fur, probably completely used to the chaos and noise around it. But then it froze and slowly stopped its chewing, sniffed the air, tensed, and bolted.

"Okay," I stated as I watched the goat come to a stop near a few of its kind and nervously glance in our direction. I put a hand on a heartbroken Claire's shoulder as Luke became extremely disgruntled, his face scrunching in aggravation. "What in the world is going on?"

Then the weirdest thing happened. A huge gust of wind flew through the enclosure, ruffling my hair and making goosebumps rise on my skin. I shivered against the chill, but the heads of every single one of the animals in the area shot upward, curiously sniffing at the air. Then as one, they all looked directly at Paul and shot off in several different directions, each of them getting as far away from Paul as humanly possible.

My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as every adult shook their heads and shrugged in confusion, trying to comfort their now sad children. The zookeepers looked equally baffled, scratching their heads and staring at the animals in complete befuddlement as they struggled to give an explanation to the annoyed parents. But I, on the other hand, glanced at the animals and then back to my companion. "Oh, my God," I gaped at Paul, realization dawning on me. "Oh, my God!"

"What?" he demanded, glaring at me and expectantly waiting an answer.

"It's you!" I exclaimed in delight, ignoring the annoyed looks I was getting from other people whose animals were frightened away. Unable to resist the hysteria bubbling up inside me, I let out a loud laugh. "You're the reason the animals are acting all weird – they hate you! They were all fine until you walked into the enclosure!"

" _What?_ " he responded. It was obvious that that wasn't what he had been expecting me to say. "Would you stop laughing? Why the hell would I be the reason that…" Some sort of realization dawned in his eyes and I assumed that he came to the same conclusion that I did. "Oh."

"You need to go like right now," I concluded through my giggles and pointed him directly to the red exit sign, cheeks red from trying to hold back my hysterics. "You're completely ruining it for the kids."

He tossed up his hands in exasperation. "I'll be waiting outside."

Once the kids had gotten their fill of petting the animals, who didn't take much coaxing to get out of their corners once Paul had left the immediate area, I walked out of the enclosure with a spring in my step and a contented smile on my face. Paul was sitting on a nearby bench and waiting for us to return, and I immediately headed in his direction. "Oh, don't look so smug," he snapped, though his tone held no malice. "It's not that funny."

"I thank you _profusely_ for that wonderful experience, Paul," I teased, helping the two kids climb back in their buggy. "I haven't laughed that much in years. Now let's get a move on; I want to see if you have the same effect on the monkeys."

oOo

We didn't have trouble with any of the other animals throughout the zoo (to my disappointment) but throughout the rest of the day, every time I would glance at Paul I would subsequently burst into a round of giggles that would make him scowl. By the time we stopped to get something to eat at the only restaurant in the zoo, Claire and Luke were practically dead on their feet with their exhaustion, both yawning as they lazily shoved French fries and chicken strips into their mouths.

I thoughtfully chewed on my cheeseburger and glanced around at the tiny courtyard dotted with stone tables and benches on which people could rest and enjoy their food. My eyes settling on a tiny area that had been practically taken over by a group of children wearing girl scout uniforms and their parents. The kids were arguing about something, yelling obnoxiously and pulling each other's hair in a tantrum with their oblivious mothers sitting only several paces away. Their eyes, I noted with raised eyebrows, were focused almost blatantly on Paul.

I met the eyes of one of them when I shifted in my spot, and she sent me a look that was akin to jealousy but clearly read, 'What, are you going to try and stop us from looking?'

I turned back to Paul with a roll of my eyes, content with the knowledge that he was here with _me._ So yeah, they can look all they wanted, but there was no one allowed to touch except for -

 _Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop that thought before it gets out of control._

Suddenly it felt as though I had lost my appetite and I put down my burger, but the action didn't escape Paul's attention. "You're finished already?" he asked confusedly, already in the middle of his second burger before I had even eaten half of my first.

"I wasn't that hungry in the first place," I lied, reaching out to take one of my fries. Then for some reason that I honestly couldn't fathom, I cleared my throat and pointed out, "So I don't know if you noticed, but you seem to have a fan club."

Paul stopped eating mid-bite, frowning at me. "Fan club?"

I nodded my head to the side in the direction of the group of women. "They've been staring at you for at least fifteen minutes. Have you really not noticed?"

He shrugged, unperturbed, and went back to his burger. "Nope." He chewed thoughtfully, cocking his head to the side. "But you noticed. Jealous?"

I made a face. "Why would I be jealous? By all means," I gestured in their direction, something unfamiliar prickling over my skin. "Go ahead and take a shot. From the looks of it, they'd be delighted if you went over there. Just another distraction from the misbehaving children they already aren't paying attention to."

The very thought of Paul leaving the table to go and talk to that group of women sent a hot slice of annoyance flowing up my spine. I shifted awkwardly in my seat, pointedly picking up a fry and slamming it down into my tiny pile of ketchup before popping it in my mouth.

Paul looked amused, leaning forward conspiratorially across the table. "So let me get this straight: if I got up right now and went to go hit on one of those women, you seriously wouldn't be bothered. At all."

"Nope." A disbelieving silence went between the two of us, and he sat back in his seat. For good measure as I subconsciously tore up another fry with my fingertips, I added, "Because we're _friends_ , Paul. Nothing more, nothing less. Who you date or sleep with is none of my concern. And don't look at me like that," I snapped in conclusion, tossing down the destroyed remains of the fry and wiping my hands on a napkin.

When he reached across the table to place his hand on top of mine, I immediately pulled away because the burning heat from his skin made me feel like I was suffocating. He looked hurt, but didn't comment on my sudden retreat. "Katherine, I have absolutely no intentions of talking to those women. Honestly, I barely even noticed they were there."

I found that hard to believe but relief flew through me – even though I had no reason to feel relief of any sort for any reason whatsoever. "Okay."

His frown deepened. "You don't believe me."

"Forgive me if your previous record contradicts your words. It's okay, I get it," I stated seriously, "you need to get your rocks off somehow and it certainly isn't going to be with me." What the fuck was I even doing? Were these words actually coming out of my mouth? I was digging myself into a bigger and bigger hole but I just couldn't seem to stop.

Holy shit, was I…? Was I actually _jealous_? No, that was completely impossible. There wasn't anything between Paul and myself; he could date or screw whoever he wanted and I couldn't care less… but even so, the thought of him being with some other woman put a bad taste in my mouth that just wouldn't go away. Because it wasn't as if I had feelings for him, because I didn't. I _couldn't_.

Okay, maybe that was a stretch. There was _something_ and I knew I couldn't deny it. After all, I wouldn't be - I inwardly cringed - _jealous_ if I didn't feel something for Paul. But I shoved that thought aside with the explanation that it was a combination of hormones and Paul's attractiveness, and left it at that.

"Do you want me to be blunt?" he inquired almost bitterly. "Fine, I will. I haven't actually seriously dated anyone in years and the last person I slept with was over two months before I met you."

That was… If Paul was telling the truth, it meant that was going on over six months. "Are you serious?" I asked incredulously, hating the suspicion in my voice. "Because to be completely honest, I find that hard to believe."

"Ask one of the guys," he challenged. "Ask Emily, if you want. It's the truth. They don't hold any appeal to me because none of them are –" he grit his teeth, the unfinished sentence dangling in the air between us. _None of them are… you?_ Was that what he was going to say?

Emily's words suddenly rang out in the back of my head. _"I get what you're saying,"_ she had stated when I brought up Paul's previous man-whorish behavior. _"But it's different with you."_ Then, _"Don't judge him too harshly. Paul has been through a lot in his life – his parents weren't exactly the best examples of healthy relationships, if you get my meaning."_

Suddenly I became hyperaware of the fact that we weren't exactly alone and had a very impressionable audience hanging onto our every word. "Are the two of you finished with your food?" I asked Claire and Luke.

Both nodded wordlessly, and Luke let out a loud yawn.

"Looks like it's time for us to start heading back home," I concluded softly, not meeting Paul's gaze as I roughly got to my feet.

By the time we reached Paul's truck, both Luke and Claire were fast asleep and didn't awaken when they were belted into the backseats. Wordlessly, Paul and I both climbed into the front, and I quietly rested my head against the window as he started the car. We were halfway to La Push when one of us finally decided to speak.

"I didn't mean to offend you with what I said," I apologized softly, still staring out the window. The glass felt cool on my forehead and in the distance, thunder rumbled. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that –"

"You didn't offend me," he answered immediately. "And you had every right to think what you did. It isn't exactly a secret that I…" his voice trailed off. "But I'm not like that anymore."

"People don't change," I stated, almost to myself. "If anything, they get worse. Trust me; I know from experience."

Paul was quiet for several moments. "Does it have anything to do with… Thomas's father? Or does it have something to do with that mysterious phone call you got the other day?"

My head shot upward to him, but his expression was unreadable.

"C'mon, Katherine," he said, unable to keep the belittling tone away. "I'm not stupid. I know that phone call didn't have anything to do with the school forgetting some files."

I was sure my cheeks were bright red. "Paul, because I like you, I'm going to ask you not to do this," I stated tiredly, struggling not to follow my instincts and snap at him. "Don't question me on topics like this - not when you don't have any idea -" I bit my lip. "Besides," I continued swiftly, regretting the words the instant they were out of my mouth. "Thomas's father is dead, so he's irrelevant to the conversation."

There was a beat of thick silence. "I'm sorry about his father being –"

"Don't be," I interrupted with a shake of my head. "Don't apologize. The bastard is where he belongs – rotting in hell." At Paul's questioning look, I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. This conversation was going in a direction that made me _extremely_ uncomfortable. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

For half of a moment I figured that we would spend the rest of the car ride in silence; I thought to myself, _'well now you've done it. You've officially done what you've wanted all along: you scared him off. Are you happy now?'_ But no, I wasn't happy. What I wouldn't have given in that moment to be able to open my mouth and tell him the truth, just blurt out everything I wanted to say and everything that I was hiding, but I knew that I couldn't. Not only would I risk my safety and the safety of everyone else, I didn't think that my heart would be able to take the strain.

We had made it back to the house, finally, through the tense and awkward silence. The sky was a mix of dark pinks and oranges as the sun had finally begun to set, and the grass around the house was filled with dew. Just as I was about to open my mouth and thank him for coming with me to the zoo, he surprised me.

"My dad was an alcoholic and used to beat me and my mom," he stated matter-of-factly, eyes trained on the lit windows of the house. "My parents ended up divorcing when I was eight, and my mom left me with him. One day I just woke up and she was gone. She lives in San Francisco now, remarried; we don't talk. My dad just got worse after she left, and I was stuck in that house with my dad, completely alone. I was always so… angry. At myself, at him for being the way he was, at her for leaving me, at the world. It's pointless of me to say that I got myself into quite a bit of trouble with the group of friends I had at the time. It was like I had literally lost the ability to care about what I did because why should I? Nobody else did."

He shook his head and continued, "I was in a bad place for a long time, but when I turned sixteen…" he hesitated. "I happened to become friends with Sam and Jared. Emily gave me a place to stay sometimes so that I wouldn't have to be at home, and I turned my life around. Not long after that, I managed to save up enough money to buy my own house. Now I have the best family in the world and even though we aren't related by blood and they can all be a bunch of dickheads sometimes, I wouldn't trade them for anything."

I swallowed, heart beating with such empathy that I felt as though it would burst. My voice sounded rough and raspy when I spoke. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I trust you, and I want you to be able to trust me, too," he replied. On a whim he slowly reached out and grabbed my hand. This time, I didn't pull away. "Because I know you feel like you have to hide who you are to be strong, but you don't. It's a cold world when you have to deal with it alone. But you don't have to worry; I'm here for you and I'm not going anywhere."

The words slammed into my chest like a knife to the heart, dispersing into my veins and twisting into my brain relentlessly. I choked out a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh, quickly wiping away a stray tear from under my eye. "You're making it increasingly harder to hate you," I managed to get out, anxiously fiddling with the key that still hung around my neck.

Paul's eyes dropped to my hand and the key, but he chose not to comment on my nervous habit. "You don't deserve to keep yourself locked up, because there are people who care about you that understand and want nothing more than to help. You just have to give them a chance."

My teeth sunk into my lip so harshly that I was sure I made myself bleed. "Why is it that we have all of our deep and heartfelt conversations while we're in your truck?" I asked weakly, in a half-hearted attempt to change the subject. At the stern look he sent me, I turned away. "Thank you for sharing that with me, but I don't know if I'm ready to open up to you."

He nodded, as if he had expected this. "That's okay. I can wait."

"And if I'm never ready?" I questioned softly.

Paul didn't even miss a beat. "I don't care. If I have to, I'll wait forever."

When I turned back to look at Paul's face, it seemed that I was seeing him in a completely different light. It was like we had evolved in such a short amount of time. Months ago, I couldn't have imagined me being in this type of situation with anyone - and now, I couldn't imagine being in this situation with anyone but Paul. Strange to see how a little persistence and some time can change a person so drastically. "I don't know what to say," I admitted, looking down at our intertwined hands.

"You don't have to say anything," he replied, voice quiet in the silence of the truck. His thumb traced over the back of my palm, leaving a heated trail on my skin.

But I did say something - and for the first time in quite a while when it came to dealing with Paul, I was being 100% honest. "I want to trust you," I murmured. "I really want to; more than I should."

There was some foreign emotion in Paul's expression that I could not identify, but it was akin to fear. His grip on my hand tightened, as if he thought my reaction would change completely and I would begin to pull away. "I know that it will take a while for you to trust me, and I know you're hiding things from me that you don't feel like you can tell me, and that's okay. But I don't want to keep things from you anymore. There's something that you need to know - about me, about my friends... something really _important_ that needs to be said before our friendship goes any further."

That sounded ominous and I didn't like it one bit. "What is it?"

He hesitated. "I'm afraid to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because I have a feeling that if I tell you, I'll lose any chance of getting you to trust me. If I tell you, I think you'll be afraid of me."

Warning bells were going off in the back of my head. What could possibly be that bad? "Well then, why even bring it up in conversation?"

"Because it's important," he answered immediately. "It's not a bad thing necessarily, but you might not - probably won't - see it the way that I do. And that's what I'm afraid of. What we have right now - it's good for both of us. It's no secret that I want more," at this, I blanched, but he didn't even blink an eye at his confession, "but I'm okay with being friends if that's all you're ready for. I'm fine with that and I won't push you. But what I'm hiding from you is a big part of who I am, and I can't hide it from you any longer. You deserve to know."

"Then tell me."

When he pulled away, I immediately felt the loss with more pain than I expected. "I can't. Not now."

"Then when?" I asked.

It took him a moment to answer. "Soon. Very soon."

oOo

After a quick goodbye and a steady attempt at holding back the rush of emotion that flooded through my chest, I all but bolted into the house and didn't look back. Isaac barely glanced in my direction when I walked in the house with a still snoozing Luke, immediately going upstairs to place the young boy in his bed.

 _God_ , was it possible for your heart to feel so full that you were sure it could burst at any moment? Looking down at Luke's sleeping face, brushing a bit of hair from his forehead, I wondered if Paul was completely right. Maybe it was time for me to open up a bit and change my view of the world. Maybe it was time to move on and get on with my life.

But then again... Paul's final words still rang in my mind, red lights flashing a warning sign that said whatever he was hiding was _not_ something I needed to get involved with. But this was _Paul,_ and -

I wiped away a few stray tears from my eyes and sniffled, cutting off my train of thought and pulling Luke's blankets up to his chest. I spared him a single glance before leaving, quietly shutting the door behind me.

The first thing out of Isaac's mouth the second I stepped downstairs was, "Your eyes are red."

"I know," I said glumly as I made my way into the kitchen, immediately noting the empty pizza boxes and soda cans that were shoved into the garbage. "Looks like it was a productive night. Did you have fun?"

Isaac had followed me into the kitchen, wearing a suspicious expression. "It was fine. We played video games and stuffed our faces – the usual guy stuff. How was the zoo?"

"It –" I cut myself off, chewing hesitantly on my bottom lip. "It was nice," I admitted, shocking myself with the honesty in my tone. "We had fun."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because usually fun doesn't equal crying."

I turned away from him and marched over to the kitchen sink to find something to distract myself with – sure enough, there were several dishes and plates that needed to be washed. I filled the basin with water, automatically scrubbing at them with more force than was necessary. "I'm not crying; I'm just being stupid."

"What happened?"

"I'm…" I frowned at the bubbles rising up in the sink. "I don't think I know what's happening between us anymore. I'm confused and… my heart feels like it wants to explode."

Isaac was silent for a long time, just studying me and thinking about what I had said. Finally, at the moment I was about to turn around and tiredly order him to head to bed, he said, "I like it here. There's something about this place that just grows on you – like we're _supposed_ to be here, you know?" He stood, and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Which means that you shouldn't fight whatever it is that you're feeling."

"It's not that I'm fighting. It's just that there are so many secrets that I don't know if I can keep... _lying_ to everyone like this." My fingers taped anxiously against the inside of the sink before I turned and gave him a weak smile. "Wait a second, since when have you gotten so mature? Where's that kid that used to drink straight out of the milk carton and annoy the hell out of me on a daily basis?"

He shrugged. "I guess I just finally realized it's time to grow up."

Later, once Isaac had gone to his room for the night and I was all curled up in bed, I thought about the events of the day and wondered if my feelings would be different if things had gone a different way - if I set myself up for being bitter the entire day instead of waking up in an optimistic mood.

I sniffed and pulled my legs up to my chest, feeling like that scared teenager that I had tried so hard to destroy. I hated feeling like this, pained and confused and wanting something that I knew I couldn't have.

Yes, there was no way that I could deny it any longer: despite the secrets and the pain and the confusion, I felt something for Paul.

Granted, I wasn't exactly sure what that _was,_ but it was strong and it was real and it was so much more than hatred or annoyance. It was a pure and bittersweet feeling that filled me with dismay, but at the same time, it made my heart patter with unending glee. I _wanted_ him, even though I knew that being with him would be impossible for so many different reasons. The rational side of me knew this – knew that any kind of romantic relationship was completely out of the question, but the less sane part of me couldn't get over the fact that…

I was a mess, and he made me feel whole again.

I refused to delude myself by having hope that a relationship was possible. Not only was I way out of his league… in some ways he was also out of mine. Maybe it was true that we shouldn't judge people until we get to know them. Obviously, Paul wasn't the same person that I had originally expected him to be – quite the opposite. He was a person that I could fully see myself being happy with – amusing banter and playful fights and someone who would challenge me just as much as I challenged him.

I had never experienced that before and now that I had a taste, it was like some sort of drug. No, not a drug, but something else – something healthy and wholesome and new and bright and _wonderful –_

 _No._ It would never happen, even if Paul had made it obvious that he wanted more. As I kept having to sternly remind myself, we could have had that type of relationship if the world was different and if the situation was a little less… tense, but I refused to imagine what could have been because it would just make me crave what I couldn't have. I knew this. I was sure that Isaac knew it. Paul knew it – or knew _of_ it, at least – because I had told him several times.

But I had never given him an explanation, and didn't I owe him answers? He had revealed so much of himself to me and I had barely told him anything about myself. Paul had said he would tell me one of his biggest secrets - one that could potentially risk our entire friendship - and didn't I at least need to give him an explanation for my own behavior?

And it was there, curled up in the sheets of my bed and surrounded by fluffy pillows, that I was made completely aware of two things:

The first was that my life was completely fucked up and that I was an idiot. The family that I had was crazy and dysfunctional, but it was still my family. I had completely given up on having the "married with two kids, a dog, and have a little yellow house with a white picket fence" lifestyle without even giving it a chance, but that didn't mean that I still didn't want it. I had to be grateful for what I had and not wish for more, because some people didn't even have that, especially when I actually had the chance to have that with Paul, but I was too stubborn to take it any further. But yes, Paul did deserve to know why, especially since he was prepared to risk our already fragile relationship to open up to me.

Second, I refused to wish for more than I had because I was happy with my tiny family. We weren't _conventional_ but we were still a family, and I loved my two boys more than life itself. But still… there was something missing.

And the sad part is that I finally realized that, when I was with Paul, it didn't feel like something was missing anymore.

oOo

 _Yep. That's that, then. Lots of tension in this chapter, but a tiny bit of hope for the future. But not to worry, dear friends, there's much pain and drama on the horizon! But we have progress! Hooray! Remember, at least seven reviews!_

 ** _*ALSO GO VOTE ON THE POLL IF YOU HAVEN'T BECAUSE IT'S REALLY IMPORTANT!*_**

 _Next Time : an admittedly filler chapter, demands for dinner, birthdays and used vehicles, and a heart to heart between two wolves._


	13. A Used Car in the Backyard

_WHAT IS THIS? AN UPDATE? THREE DAYS EARLY? Well, this is just because you lovelies are absolutely wonderful and your feedback is sublime!_

 _Plus this is undeniably a filler chapter but this will all be important later, I swear. It's also leading up to a lot of important stuff that will help out some plot points in chapter 14/15, and will be relevant later on, so just buckle up and get ready. We're at the time where everything's setting up for a big explosion, so settle in for the ride and enjoy._

Chapter 13:

" _Lies and secrets, Tessa, they are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind." - Cassandra Clare, "Clockwork Prince"_

It had been almost a week and a half since our fun-filled – if you could call it that – trip to the zoo, and Paul had… well, he had been absent for the last few days. He stopped by once or twice to say hello but never stayed more than a few minutes, even when I – out of the goodness of my heart – invited him to stay for dinner. He had looked regretful, but still denied my offer and gave some excuse that we both knew was bullshit. I had no idea what this meant – was he finally growing tired of my company? Or did he believe he had said too much in our recent heart to heart and was now having regrets at saying anything at all? Or had we both just gone too far and said too much and he was fed up with it all and decided I wasn't worth the time?

Really, it was a tossup, but when he stopped by the house I made sure not to mention anything about his so called 'secret.' Hell, I didn't even bring it up – not that he ever gave me the chance, even if I wanted to. I had a pretty strong feeling that was what this strange change in behavior was about – either he regretted even bringing it up, or he was hesitant to tell me… whatever it is that he had to tell me. And since I was hiding secrets from him, too… I didn't press. I figured that, when he was ready, he would open up. After all, isn't that what he kept saying to me? That he wouldn't press me for anything more than I was ready to give him, and that he would be there if I was ever ready to open up?

Though Paul's company was sorely and surprisingly missed – since it was getting to be monotonous with my only company for days on end being a six year old and a teenager – I was never actually alone. When Paul decided to make himself scarce, the wolf decided to make a sudden reappearance. Every night like clockwork, that magnificent and deadly beast would be outside of the house, only partially hidden behind some of the trees. I had no idea what it was doing there or why it found the house so interesting again, but I figured it was better not to question it. It wasn't hurting anyone, so who was I to run him off?

Besides, I liked his presence. Having the wolf outside the window almost made me feel... safe. As if I knew that nothing would happen to me as long as he stayed where he was. Even though it was a strange feeling and it came from absolutely nowhere, it was still nice to know that there was still _one thing_ in this crazy world that I could count on - even if that thing had to be the wolf's constant presence outside the house.

But as of now, both Paul and the wolf were irrelevant. As it was, there was a serious event that called my attention that was slowly coming up, and Isaac made it his personal task to remind me of it.

"So my birthday's coming up soon."

From where I was lounging at the kitchen table staring blankly at an empty word document, attempting and subsequently failing to begin writing the story that I should have started weeks ago, I blinked and turned my head toward the teenager that had plopped down in the chair beside me. He was leaning determinedly in my direction, staring expectantly. "What are we talking about?"

"Birthday. Me. Eighteen," he stated, giving me a pointed look. "Legally an adult, able to vote, going off to college... Ringing any bells here?"

"Oh." I frowned. "Damn, that's really coming up. Less than a month, isn't it?"

"Three weeks, actually, if we're being specific," he said casually, lazily leaning back in his chair. "I was just wondering – you know, not that it's that big of a deal or anything because I'm not expecting anything extravagant, given the circumstances – if you had, you know, given any thoughts as to what we had discussed before we moved here. Our deal we had - the one where I fulfilled my end of the bargain but you never got a chance to go through with your side."

I stared, but he just gave me an innocent smile. "Is this supposed to be some sort of unsubtle hint about getting you a car?"

"Noooo," the word was slow and dragged out, as if that would reassure me of his honesty. I rolled my eyes. "Of course not. Honestly, I'm insulted that you would even think something like that. But now that you mention it, a car would be absolutely _awesome_. I mean, like I said before, I originally did fulfill my part of the bargain, and I know you're never one to let a debt go unfulfilled – who knows what could happen?"

I nearly snorted in amusement. "Oh, sweetie, please don't try to give hints anymore – you're absolutely terrible at it."

"… Is that a no?"

I closed the laptop and turned completely in my seat to face him. "It's an 'I'll see what I can do, but I'm not making any promises.'" My gaze softened when I saw that he was trying to hide his disappointment, but I was even more hurt by his resignation – as if he had expected that to be my answer and that he had tried not to get his hopes up but didn't completely succeed. "It's not a ' _no,_ '" I clarified quickly. "I just don't want to draw any unwanted attention to ourselves for dropping a bunch of money on a nice car for you. Do you understand?"

After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah, I understand."

"I'll see what I can do, I promise," I repeated gently, reaching out to pat his shoulder. "Who knows? Maybe I'll look around, see something nice that I think would be good for you, but if it doesn't pan out, you can expect something equally as awesome, okay?"

His returning smile was half-hearted and weak. "Okay. Thanks, Katherine." Before I could say anything else, he pushed back from the table and disappeared from the room.

Sighing, I watched him go. In another world, things would have been different. He would have already had his car and I wouldn't have had to worry about drawing attention by buying a brand new one with money that – to the rest of the town - I shouldn't have had. After all, a lawyer's salary was a _lot_ different to a museum worker's. How would I be able to explain the money?

Then I was struck with an absolutely brilliant idea. Granted, it was a longshot, but… it was worth a try, wasn't it? What could it hurt just to ask and put some feelers out for information?

Without a second thought of hesitation, I got to my feet and headed toward the fridge, where a magnet was holding a half-crumpled piece of paper to the cold surface. I dialed the seven digits scribbled on the paper in a scrawling handwriting and listened to the ring until a deep voice answered the phone. "Yes, Jacob? Hi, it's Katherine. I – wait, what? Yes, seriously! Honestly, how many other Katherine's do you know? No, listen, I need a favor." I glanced down the hall to make sure that Isaac had completely gone and wasn't in earshot. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone who was looking to sell a car, would you?"

oOo

"I have to tell her."

In the quiet of the Uley kitchen, Sam and Paul sat across from each other in near silence. For the first time in a long time, the kitchen was all but abandoned. There was a tense stillness in the air that was usually never there since the room was usually filled with chaos and noise and laughter and baking goods, but now there was merely quiet - an aching tension that seemed almost tangible.

"That's your call," Sam replied after a moment. "She's been suspicious since the beginning so she knew that something was wrong; your hints just gave her confirmation. I would have waited to even mention, if I were you, but I understand why you don't want to hide it anymore. I just hope you know what you're doing - or what you're getting yourself into."

Paul sighed. Life shouldn't have been this complicated; his _imprint_ shouldn't have been this complicated. But he guessed if it wasn't complicated and messy and painful, then it wouldn't be interesting. "Even with how much I want to tell her, I'm starting to regret ever even mentioning it to her because I just know she's going to react badly. The wolf thing – she's seen me outside her house and hasn't reacted badly, so I think she'll be able to take that in stride, eventually. As for the imprint… that won't go over well. Not in the slightest."

"You can't hide it forever."

"I know. Better to rip it off like a Band-Aid, I guess."

There was a pause. "Do you plan on telling her everything at once? Because I don't know if that's a good idea."

"If I tell her half of it, then hide the rest, she'll just be more pissed at me in the long run."

The unspoken words hung in the air between them. _If she even accepts it in the first place. If she even still wants to be around me after she finds out. If she even believes me. If she understands. If she isn't afraid of me. If... If... If..._

"When?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. Soon, maybe? I told her it would be soon." Paul shook his head. The empty water bottle in his hand crunched as he absently squeezed it in his fist. Eventually he let the water bottle go, and it fell to the table with a slight 'thud' and went still. "It isn't exactly something that the two of us can just discuss over dinner and a glass of wine."

"No," said Sam slowly, "but maybe dinner isn't such a bad idea. Soften her up a little more before you drop a bomb."

"She doesn't date, Sam."

"Did I say as a date?" Sam argued in exasperation. "It's entirely possible to go out to dinner with someone without making it romantic. And who knows? She might not be as opposed to dating now. She isn't really the same person she was when she first moved here; I barely know her and even I can tell that she's changed."

Paul thought about Katherine's stubbornness, her utter derision for the concept of 'dating,' and her shaky attitude when it came to the entirety of his existence. "I highly doubt she'll agree."

"It's worth a shot. Couldn't hurt your chances."

"That's a matter of opinion." Paul leaned back in his chair and tiredly rubbed his eyes. "I haven't exactly been subtle with avoiding her lately. But to her credit, she hasn't even brought it up whenever I go to visit. Not that I gave her a chance to actually say anything about it. Usually I just say hello, ask her how she's doing, then leave as fast as possible."

"You have no one to blame but yourself."

"I know, I know, I don't need the lecture." Paul turned his gaze to the far wall, but Sam didn't take his eyes off of Paul's face. "I'm terrified."

"I'd think you were an idiot if you weren't."

"She's not going to want anything to do with me after I tell her."

"You don't know that." But Paul could hear the doubt in Sam's voice. "Ask her to dinner, Paul. What about that little Italian place in Port Angeles? Emily likes it there; it's a bit fancy, but casual enough that you could definitely take a 'friend' there. Take her to dinner, talk to her _without_ being an asshole, win a few points with her before you decide to take the plunge and tell her."

"And if she says no?"

"She won't." This time, Sam's voice was firm.

"You sound a lot more assured than I feel."

"She's your _imprint,_ Paul," the older man stated tiredly. "I don't care how fragile or complicated your relationship with her is. In the end, it's going to work out. You just have to give it a bit of time. She's scared, hesitant for some reason, and she's fighting the imprint, but she can't fight it forever, no matter how stubborn she is. Things will get better and she'll change her mind. You just need to wait."

"You keep saying that everything is going to be good _eventually_. Why do I have a horrible feeling that one of us won't come out unscathed?"

For once, Sam didn't have an answer.

oOo

The day started out as any other before it began to get weird. I brought the boys to school, poured myself another cup of coffee in my mug and added my needed cream and sugar, settled in on the couch with a book, and waited patiently until it was time for me to drive over to Jacob Black's house to check out what he called, 'the perfect truck for a teenager looking for his first car.'

That statement was up for debate, but I figured I would actually see the truck before I started asking questions.

I hadn't seen a glimpse of Paul for almost four days, since Sunday when he stopped by for half of a moment on his way to work. He looked exhausted, brow-beaten, and defeated, but his sarcastic and cocky attitude had yet to disappear. Imagine my surprise when the doorbell rang early that drizzly Wednesday morning, when I had barely finished opening the door before Paul was saying, "We're going to dinner in Port Angeles."

I stared up at him blankly, my brain trying to comprehend what he was saying. I blinked when he stared at me expectantly, shaking my head, car keys dangling from my hands. "I'm sorry, was there a question in there somewhere?"

He rolled his eyes and looked impatient. "Do you want to go to dinner with me tonight?"

I pretended to think about it, tapping my finger against my chin. "As _amazing_ as that offer sounds and how pleasant I'm sure your company would probably be," I drawled lazily, only the tiniest bit sarcastic, "I'll have to pass. Not only do I not date – which you damn well know – but I already have plans and don't know how long I'll be."

He was shaking his head before I even finished my sentence, already expecting my refusal and automatically blurting out, "Not a date. Just a simple dinner shared between friends." But then it was like his brain processed the rest of my sentence, and his eyes narrowed almost dangerously. "Wait, plans? Since when do you have plans?"

I raised an eyebrow and stepped out onto the porch, shutting and locking the door behind me. "Yes, I have plans; believe it or not, I'm an adult and sometimes adults make plans without telling other people - people who haven't been around for almost two weeks, might I add," I glanced at him pointedly. "And I need to get my plans done _today_ while the boys are at school. It's supposed to be a secret for Aiden."

"What plans?" he demanded.

I turned to him, but didn't answer his question. "You're being awfully pushy today. What happened to the Paul that's been avoiding me like I had the plague the last few weeks? I miss that guy; not as annoying and nosy."

"I had some things to take care of," he waved aside my concerns. "It's a long story. What plans?"

I all but shoved Paul aside and trotted down the porch stairs; he followed close behind. "If you must know, I'm going to Jacob's."

His frown of confusion deepened. "You're going to Jacob's?"

"That's what I just said, wasn't it?"

"What for?"

I stopped in the middle of the yard and turned back to him, hands on my hips. "I'm going over so that he and I can fuck and then I'm going to have his children," I deadpanned, enjoying the tightening of what appeared to be jealousy around Paul's eyes. "Jesus, Paul, why does it matter what I'm going to see Jacob for? I asked him for a favor and he agreed to help me with it. Why are you acting so weird?"

"So you're blowing me off for Jacob?"

"Firstly, it's not blowing off if we didn't schedule something beforehand. And you waltzing up and demanding for me to go to dinner with you doesn't equal having plans." I pulled open the driver's side door of my truck. "Secondly, I've barely seen you – how was I supposed to know you'd get a random craving for my company and want to go out to dinner?" I paused, giving him a strange look. "Speaking of which, why _do_ you want to go out to dinner all of a sudden? It's a bit strange, even for you. You aren't really the type to take people out to dinner."

He didn't speak until I climbed into the truck, slamming the door shut behind me. He half-leaned in through the open window, looking only a fraction disappointed. "I miss your company," he admitted. "I'm sorry that I've been avoiding you lately, but I really just want to spend some time with you. I miss you."

A wave of happiness went over me, and I felt my cheeks heat. "But that's not all, is it?" I replied knowingly, ignoring my embarrassment and subsequent contentment at his words. "If you wanted my company, you would have just come over whenever you wanted and made a nuisance of yourself like you always do. It's not as if you're a stranger here, nowadays. If we both know it's not a date and we both know it's not just because you miss my admittedly wonderful company… does it have anything to do with whatever it is that you have to tell me?"

From his expression, I could tell that I had hit the metaphorical nail on the head. "I didn't really have any intention of telling you tonight because it's not the right time to say anything, but I was hoping that going out to dinner would... soften you up a little. That wasn't the only reason, though. I _do_ miss you, and we've never really ever done anything with just the two of us."

I slipped my sunglasses from my head to my eyes, sticking the key in the ignition. The truck roared to life, but Paul didn't move. "This is sounding awfully date-like."

"It's not a date." If anything, he sounded firm, and his words were so stern and robotic that they almost felt rehearsed. "Friends have dinner," he said seriously, and I wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince.

"That they do," I conceded amusedly, cocking my head to the side at his determination. I gave him a side-eyed glance. "And what will this dinner entail, dare I ask?"

He perked up. "Does this mean that you're agreeing?"

"No. It means I'm pondering."

The corners of his lips twitched but he didn't let himself smile. Though, I noted that he looked considerably happier. "There's a little Italian place in Port Angeles that's pretty popular. Just dinner, maybe dessert after, if we feel up to it."

Damn, the bastard somehow knew that I was a complete sucker for Italian food. I pursed my lips, studying the innocent expression on his face. But I now knew him well enough that I could see the anxiety behind his eyes - he really _was_ nervous, resigned that I would simply decline and drive away without giving him another chance. This knowledge just made my answer even easier. "Tomorrow, then?"

oOo

The home of Jacob and Billy Black was a tiny place, with red siding and lots of land and what looked like car parts scattered in various places near the sides of the house in the slightly overgrown grass. The garage – where Jacob had directed me to go once I arrived – wasn't in much better condition. In fact, the roof of the garage seemed to be held up by sheer determination, and Jacob had apparently made it his own personal home away from home ever since he figured out the difference between an engine and a steering wheel.

But as I soon found out, that wasn't our final destination. After grabbing a set of keys out of a nearby toolbox in the admittedly well-organized garage, where I was told that Jacob spent a lot of his time messing around with and rebuilding cars, I was led out of the building and behind the house, where a _very old_ Chevy Pick-up, a faded reddish-orange in color, was waiting for us.

"The engine has been completely replaced," Jacob was saying as I walked around the car and examined it critically from all sides. "My dad bought it in the eighties, but he obviously can't drive it anymore, and a family friend bought it off of us a few years ago, but she gave it back after she got married and her husband bought her a new car." Jacob made a face, but it was gone before I had a chance to comment on it. "It's reliable – for the most part, considering its age - completely safe - honestly, it could survive a nuke - and you have your own personal mechanic whenever something breaks down."

At my blank stare, he clarified, "I'm talking about me."

I rolled my eyes. "I know." Then I frowned. "Damn, it's a stick shift? I don't know how to drive a stick, and neither does Aiden."

Jacob shrugged. "Not that hard to learn; gets to be second nature once you get used to it. I'm sure that Paul would be more than happy to teach the both of you if you asked."

Oh, I bet he would. "Uh huh." I pursed my lips. "My opinion of Paul is on the fence at the moment, so that's probably not going to happen."

"You really have to give that guy a break," Jacob said, moving around the car to prop open the hood. His words weren't rude or nasty or spiteful, and his tone was kind and the smallest bit amused, but the pointed look he gave me said that he was being completely serious. "As funny as it is to watch him run around in circles trying to keep up with you, it gets exhausting having to listen to him whine all the time."

Despite myself, I was intrigued. "Whine?"

"About you," Jacob clarified simply. "Every conversation we've had with the guy over the last few months has basically revolved around you. Katherine argued with me about this, Katherine yelled at me for that, I wish Katherine wouldn't hate me so much, what can I do to get Katherine to like me? Ugh, it's absolutely revolting. No offense meant against you, of course." He paused. "Though I guess I understand what he's feeling. Paul has never really had to fight to be with someone before, especially not anyone as stubborn and independent as you; they usually just fall into his lap."

I gave him knowing look. "I'm not exactly the type to fall over myself just to get a guy's attention," I found myself replying, pulling open the driver's side door to peer inside the truck. "And I don't hate Paul - at least, not like I did when I first met him. Now he's just - he's just _Paul._ It's like he's in a category all his own."

Jacob opened the opposite door across from me and leaned in to point at the dashboard, noting things that he had already fixed and things that could do with a tune-up. "I have to fix the air conditioner because it has a mind of its own at times, and the tires need to be changed," Jacob stated suddenly, our previous conversation put on hold for the moment. "But I could definitely have that done by the time his birthday comes around; you said it was in three weeks?"

"Just about, yeah."

"Then that's definitely more than enough time if you decide to buy it." He nodded, pleased.

"Good," I nodded in satisfaction. "Just out of curiosity, why have you kept it all this time if you have your own car?"

It took him a moment to answer, but when he did, it came with a shrug of one of his shoulders. "Sentimental value, I guess. Besides, I spent a lot of time working on it so it seemed stupid to just let it go to waste. I'm glad someone will be getting some use out of it." He clapped the hood with a heavy hand. "She still has a few good years left – perfect car for a teenager that's just beginning to drive."

Even though I felt a bit shitty getting Isaac a car that was in its prime at the same time the remains of the _RMS Titanic_ were found, I figured it was better than nothing. Besides, my worries about Isaac crashing and dying in a car accident would cease to exist, because this monster looked as though it could go head to head with a tank.

"How much are you asking for it?" I asked. "And don't you dare say 'no charge.'"

Jacob chuckled as I moved around to study the slightly shiny machinery under the hood, pretending like I knew exactly what I was seeing. "$4500."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Well she isn't exactly an Italian sports car," he replied amusedly. "$4500 is more than enough – covers the cost of upkeep, the extra parts, the new engine… Really, it's a bargain, but worth it." At the dubious look on my face, he said, "And I promise I'm not trying to swindle you. It really is a great car and it works fine. It's just old." He cleared his throat. "As for the Paul thing, well, I don't know what to tell you. My mechanical skills are pretty fantastic, but fixing Paul's behavior isn't exactly my area of expertise. All I can tell you is to... be a little more open-minded when it comes to him and what he does."

I glanced up at him. "Oh? And who are you to tell me how I should and shouldn't treat Paul?"

"His friend, for one?" Jacob shot back immediately. "And I consider myself a good person, for the most part. Maybe being open-minded will help you be a good person, too."

Ouch. I pulled back and slammed the hood shut, almost smashing my fingers between heavy pieces of metal, but couldn't find it in myself to be angry with Jacob because I knew, in a way, that he was right. I hadn't exactly treated most of the people in La Push kindly, too scared and terrified and defensive to even behave like a normal, decent human being. And where has that behavior gotten me?

Nowhere.

"I have to give it to you, Jacob Black," I conceded, looking at him appraisingly, as though seeing him a new light. "You're honest."

"Lying has never really gotten me anywhere in the past," he shrugged one of his shoulders. "Honesty is really the best way to go."

 _Honesty is really the best way to go._ But weren't lies and secrets the only way to survive? "Is that supposed to be a hint of some sort?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you hiding something?"

"Are _you?_ "

"Isn't everyone?"

I hesitated. "Usually, yes. Everyone has things they want to hide. Is that so bad?"

"No, of course not," he replied, entirely sincere. "But nothing is so bad that you can't open up to at least one person. And the people here won't judge you no matter what it is that you're hiding, especially since we have some pretty big secrets of our own."

I gave him a sad smile. "Some secrets are a lot bigger than others."

"With that, I can completely agree."

oOo

 ** _IF YOU HAVEN'T GONE TO VOTE ON THE POLL, PLEASE DO!_**

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 _Next Time: a 'not-date,' a surprise visit from a she-wolf, dinner mishaps, and spilled wine._


	14. Spilled Wine from Tuscany

_Words are unable to describe how I feel about the sudden wave of reviews. You guys are the best readers ever and I appreciate each and every one of you! Keep up the wonderful reviews, please, because the feedback helps a lot! Hopefully this chapter is worth the wait - it's the longest one yet!_

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Chapter 14:

" _Tonight I can write the saddest lines:  
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me, too."  
\- Pablo Neruda_

Inevitably, because this was _my_ life we're talking about and not some lucky person with a _normal_ existence, the night ended up being absolutely disastrous. But in retrospect, maybe I should have known it was going to be a strange day the moment that Leah Clearwater showed up at my front door - completely unannounced - about an hour before Paul was supposed to arrive.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked almost stupidly at the sight of her standing on my front porch with her arms crossed over her chest. Several inches taller than me and made of what looked like pure, lean muscle, Leah cut an intimidating figure that normally would have sent me running in the opposite direction. But there was something about her easygoing and casual posture that made me feel at ease. "Not that I'm, you know, not glad to see you or anything, but –"

"Emily was going to come over to help you get ready for your date – out of the goodness of her heart or something," she made a face, "but she wasn't really feeling well when she woke up this morning so she asked me to come in her place." Leah shrugged, her expression saying, 'What can you do?' "Besides," she added as a last minute thought, "I didn't have anything better to do and I think you deserve a bit of a heads up on what to expect tonight – warnings that Emily probably wouldn't give you."

"You aren't actually being reassuring right now; should I be scared?" I questioned wryly, but I still stepped aside to let her into the house. "And it's not a date, as I've been making it clear to every single person who's asked."

"Details," she waved away my words with a careless hand. "And whether or not you need to be scared is debatable. Paul wouldn't let anything happen to you, but being alone with Paul is torture enough as it is. Honestly, when I first met you I thought you had better standards."

"I do have high standards," I shot back, unable to keep the harsh bite from my tone. "Which is why this is just a dinner between friends – not a date."

Leah turned and gave me a piercing stare. "Who are you actually trying to convince? Me or yourself?"

I fell silent. Then, quieter, "It isn't a date."

She simply rolled her eyes.

I pushed past her, heading toward my bedroom and gesturing for her to follow. "So you and Emily are aware that I'm not fifteen, right? I'm perfectly capable of being a grown up and dressing myself for a –"

"'Not date?'" she finished innocently.

I gave her a bitter look, all but shoving open the door to my closet to find something in it to wear. "Tell me about this place he's taking me to. He all but refused to tell me anything about it when I asked. Are we talking casual, semi-formal, formal…?"

"A little between casual and semi-formal," she shrugged one shoulder. "Wear comfortable shoes and a sweater if you have it, because they usually keep it pretty cold there. Portions are small, the food is really rich, and Paul is only going to that particular place because he thinks you'll like it."

I turned to her. "Are you serious?"

"Sam recommended it to him because it's one of Emily's favorite places," she stated, smirking as she made herself comfortable on the edge of the bed. "The food is pretty good; it's just that the guys, Paul especially, aren't really… cultured sort of people. Paul's more of a meat-and-potatoes guy instead of lasagna and garlic bread. Besides, you've seen how they eat. By the end of the meal, he's still going to be starving."

I made a face. "Then why did he choose the Italian place?"

She gave me a stern look, as if I should know what she was thinking. "Does Paul really look like the type of guy who knows what to do with a girl he isn't technically dating? Come on, Katherine; he isn't exactly Mr. Congeniality. He's going because he thinks _you'll_ like it. But don't get me wrong; Paul was nearly pissing himself in his excitement when you agreed to go with him, so you could probably wear a garbage bag and insist on eating leftovers out of an alley garbage can, and he would still think the sun shines out of your ass."

Despite the sarcasm, her words struck deep, and it felt as though I suddenly realized exactly what I was doing. Was dinner with Paul really a good idea? Was I just leading him on when I knew it wouldn't go any further? "This is a mistake. I shouldn't even be going with him," I found myself confiding. "I don't want him to get the wrong idea or… I don't want to give him false hope."

"Because you don't want to be with him romantically?" she asked bluntly, curious but not at all blunt with her words.

I hesitated, because that wasn't the reason at all. It was because I _couldn't_ be in a relationship with him, not because I didn't want to – and it was hard to even admit it to myself. But did that really make a difference? Did it change anything? "It's not that. I _can't_ be with him romantically, even if I wanted to," I said evasively. "It's never going to happen."

"Why?"

I narrowed my eyes in her direction. "Since when have you become a Paul sympathizer? I have my reasons and I don't have to explain them."

"You're right," she conceded, to my surprise. "And trust me, I'm one of the _last_ people who would judge you on shitty choice in boyfriends and reasons for not having one," she said, a far-off look on her face, "but as much as the bastard annoys the hell out of me… even I have to admit that he cares about you. A lot. More than I've ever seen him care about anyone."

"That doesn't change anything."

"No, it doesn't," she nodded. "But as you've been insisting, we aren't talking about romantic relationships here. We're talking about friendships, and you're perfectly happy having a friendship with Paul. How is it any different than having a friendship with me or with Emily?"

"Because Paul's a man and you and Emily – as far as I know - " I eyed her, "are women. It's a completely different situation. Besides, Emily could make a friend in an empty room, and you and I have similar personalities so I guess we just get along well with each other."

After a moment of silence where I turned back to the closet full of clothes but didn't reach out to take anything, Leah spoke again. "I don't have many female friends," she admitted. "I hang around with the guys a lot, so I'm pretty in tune to their thoughts, so to speak. Despite the whole 'dick in the personality' thing, they're not so different than us. Especially when it comes to you and Paul. You're basically two peas in a pod."

"Why do you hang out with people you claim that you dislike?" I asked.

"Why do you?" she shot back, casually getting to her feet and moving past me to look in the closet. "Why does anyone? It's because we don't have anyone else."

Leah's words rang so true that they made me pause. _Because we don't have anyone else_. How insane – that people continue to associate themselves with people that don't make them happy just so they wouldn't be alone. How people continue to be around and talk to those that hurt them, that cause them pain, that make them nervous, just so they wouldn't be lonely. It wasn't the most impossible thing to comprehend; you see that type of behavior in abusive relationships all the time – when a woman or man gets so used to the abuse and their abuser, and that abuser has brainwashed them and taken them away from their friends and family, then they believe that if they leave the abuser, they won't have anyone left.

Not that Paul was an abuser, not in the slightest, nor did he cause me any pain or anguish - at least, not in a bad way that could have been seen as abusive. It was just that I spent my whole life being around people I secretly hated that it was hard to get out of the habit, and now I put those thoughts and feelings into my relationships with people I had nothing against – people that had never been anything but kind to me.

But before I could even open my mouth to respond to her question, a knock came from the open door. "Katherine," Isaac leaned into the room, sending a confused look at Leah's back when he saw her digging in the closet. "I can't find my physics textbook. Do you know where I left it?"

"The living room?" I guessed, frowning when Leah tossed two shirts behind her to the floor into what I was assuming was her rejection pile. "Probably under the coffee table or something. Weren't you doing your homework down there yesterday? Leah, can you _not_ make a mess of my room?"

"Oh, don't be a baby," she called back.

My lips pursed. "Aiden, I don't know if you met Leah at the bonfire – did you? Leah is Seth's older sister."

Isaac nodded, and from the look on his face he had probably heard a lot about Leah from the other boys. "Nice to meet you."

Leah barely glanced behind her. "Same here. Katherine, you have horrible taste in clothes."

I gave her an exasperated glance. "I live _here_ , not at the Moulin Rouge. What were you expecting? Sequined lingerie and a stripper pole?" Isaac made a face, so I explained, "Leah showed up and apparently decided that I needed help getting dressed for tonight."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "For something that you keep insisting isn't actually a date, you're really going out of your way to look nice."

Leah snorted, but didn't say a word. More clothes flew over her shoulder, landing in the ever-growing pile. She seemed to have absolutely no qualms to barging into my home and destroying my room, but I found that I couldn't bring myself to care. I liked Leah, and I liked her attitude; in fact, she reminded me of myself in some ways. There was a pain behind her eyes that she tried to keep hidden, but I could see past it because I... I understood.

Once Isaac had left, I turned back to Leah. "So what else should I be expecting tonight, if I decide to actually go?"

" _When_ you go, there isn't really much to expect," she shrugged, critically studying a pair of jeans, and then she quickly tossed them over her shoulder with the rest of the clothes. "He'll come pick you up with a bouquet of roses in hand, wait on you hand and foot, and you'll have your very own fairytale ending in the middle of an Italian restaurant."

"This isn't the time for jokes, Leah."

Her expression said that I should clearly know better than to ask stupid questions. "What were you expecting? It's _Paul._ You've met him, haven't you? You're going to put on this dress," and with that, she pointedly shoved a piece of violet fabric in my hands, "and he's going to be so shocked that he's going to stare at you in a way that's probably going to make you uncomfortable, he'll no doubt say a bunch of stupid shit and accidentally insult you, then he'll make a fool out of himself when he thinks he's being suave. That's just how your non-relationship works."

I glanced down at the dress, one of the only pieces of clothing that I was able to scrounge from our home before it had burst into flames the next day. The dress was made of soft polyester that hugged the figure, something I would have worn for a simple day at the office or if I was going out to lunch with a colleague or business partner. "No. It'll give him the impression that I'm trying too hard."

"If you ask me, you're already trying too hard."

"Well it's a good thing that nobody asked you, isn't it?" I replied snootily.

"Put on the dress," she demanded. "You're going to a nice restaurant so it's either this, or jeans and a t-shirt. If you want to wear that, fine, be my guest and embarrass yourself in front of a bunch of people. But if you want to look good and impress him with your sophistication, wear the dress."

It was like she knew exactly what to say to get me to consider it, and by _God,_ it was tempting. I had always liked showing off – I wasn't exactly _bad_ -looking, and being cocky did appeal to my stubborn and slightly narcissistic traits…

Damn it.

"Fine," I snapped, storming out of the room with the dress clenched in my hands. "I'll wear the damn dress, but I'm not going to like it!"

"Whatever you say, Katherine. Whatever you say."

oOo

"This is a mistake."

Sitting impatiently at the kitchen table as the clock ticked painfully slowly to six o'clock, my fingers incessantly tapping at the tabletop as I tried to distract myself from my feelings. Leah, who had left almost twenty minutes ago after deeming me appropriate for what she had officially deemed my 'not date,' would probably be laughing her ass off if she could see me at that moment.

"You have enough common sense in you that if it really were a mistake, you wouldn't even be going," Isaac commented casually, not even looking up from where he chomping down on a sandwich. "Stop trying to convince yourself that it's a bad idea. It's not a bad thing to be excited, you know?"

"I know," I said. "That's not what I'm afraid of." No, what I was really afraid of was that I would enjoy myself _too_ much. That was my big fear, because getting my hopes up when I _knew_ that I would just suffer in the end was just the worst form of self-torture. "Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment."

Isaac stopped mid-bite and gave me a scathing look. "Audrey, you seriously need to give it a rest. This whole 'woe is me' thing isn't like you at all. Buck up and live your life. Who cares who your friends are if they make you happy? Maybe you could give Paul a shot in the relationship area." He grimaced. "As disgusting as it is to think about my sister dating anyone, you have my full support – as long as you just _stop_ with the self-pity thing."

I opened my mouth to shoot back a sharp retort, but barely got the chance. From my seat at the table, I could see Paul's truck approach the house through the open curtain surrounding the kitchen window.

Isaac didn't follow my gaze to the window; instead he kept his eyes on me. "Wow," he said amusedly. "I don't think I've ever seen a person's face change that many colors in such a short amount of time."

With a scowl and a nervous churning in my stomach, I shoved away from the table and snatched up my purse. "Oh, don't be an ass. I'm leaving; don't stay up late, make sure Thomas goes to bed on time and _no sweets_ after 6:30. You know how he gets when he has sugar. Same to you; make sure you get some sleep and don't stay up."

I didn't wait for a response because the look on his face was too amused for his own good. In the living room, I stopped to bend over and give Luke a quick peck on the top of his head where he was playing with blocks on the coffee table, before heading toward the front door.

There was a brief moment where my hand touched the doorknob where I felt that I couldn't move. My body stayed frozen, and I realized that the moment I stepped out that door… well, I wouldn't be able to go back. There would be no rewinding and starting the day again after what happened tonight, no looking back and wondering 'what would have happened if I had stayed home and just not gone?'

Because deep down, I think both Paul and I – and everyone else - knew that this wasn't just a simple dinner between friends.

And with an anxiety in my heart that surprised me and an excitement that I refused to question, I shoved open the door.

On paper, this little dinner may not have been a date, but that didn't stop Paul from dressing like it was. It's weird how you see a guy wear the same thing every day that when you see him in something uncharacteristic that it takes you completely by surprise, because Paul looked _damn_ good in what appeared to be brand new jeans that fit so well it should have been illegal, and a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows that showed off the veins in his muscular arms. He hadn't even made it to the porch when I stepped outside, and he came to a halt a few feet away from the bottom step, grin nearly blinding when he spotted me.

"Well, you clean up nicely," he stated much too cheerfully, shoving his hands in his pockets as he waited for me to come to a halt beside him. "The dress is a surprise."

I wrapped my sweater tighter around my shoulders, feeling completely self-conscious, but to Paul's credit and my surprise, his eyes barely strayed from my face. "Yeah well, I didn't have anything else appropriate to wear."

"You look nice," he stated simply, looking down at me. "Ready to go?"

I nodded. _As ready as I'll ever be._

oOo

The ride to Port Angeles was more awkward than it should have been, because there was that huge elephant in the room that hung between me and Paul - _secrets._ The conversation was so generic and forced that I had to resist the urge to cringe, frantically searching through my thoughts for a decent conversation topic.

Eventually I settled on one topic that I had been thinking about for much of the afternoon, and figured that Paul was just as good as anyone to discuss it with, but just as I turned in my seat to voice my thoughts, he spoke. "So," he started casually. "How did your... business with Jacob go?"

I gave him an exasperated glance. "Don't tell me you're still on that." At his blank stare, I merely rolled my eyes. "It went fine. Jacob was very helpful."

There was a pause. "So you're still not going to tell me what the two of you were doing?"

"You're hopeless."

"I'm just curious!"

"No, you're nosy," I corrected scoldingly. "I'm surprised you didn't just try to wrangle it out of Jacob."

"I did," he huffed. "He wouldn't tell me, even when I threatened him. Said he was more afraid of you than he was of me, which is absolutely ridiculous."

I snorted a laugh, shoulders shaking. "Aw, am I ruining your street cred with the rest of your little friends?"

"Oh, don't act like you don't know," Paul scowled, but his tone was playful. "And don't pretend that you aren't using it to your full advantage."

I chuckled again and shook my head. "I guess I'll just have to take pity on you, then. I'm buying Jacob's old truck - the Chevy."

Of all things I could have said, that was obviously the last thing that Paul was expecting. "Are you serious? What for?"

"Aiden's eighteenth birthday is coming up in three weeks, so it's going to be a present for him." I cleared my throat, awkwardly smoothing out the bottom of my dress. "I was supposed to get him one months ago - before we ever moved here - but things have just been so hectic, and he needs something to help him get around. He's stuck in the house a lot doing nothing now that he doesn't have his team practices -"

"Team practices?"

"He used to play soccer back at his old school," I explained. "Damn good at it, too. One of the best on the team, in my opinion, though obviously I'm a bit biased. It was his favorite thing about school but Forks doesn't really have much in the way of sports. Just a football team and that's about it, and he's not a big football fan."

"So you think the car will help cheer him up a bit?"

"I'm hoping," I answered, shrugging one of my shoulders. "It won't be what he's expecting, but it has four wheels and an engine and it'll get him from Point A to Point B so I'm sure he'll be grateful."

Paul nodded absently as we pulled up to a stop at a red light, and I noticed that the trees were slowly starting to thin out in favor of buildings and actual civilization. "You're a really good sister. And a good mom, from what I've seen."

"I try my best," I replied simply. Then, because the topic was getting much too sensitive, I changed the subject. "Can I ask you something? It doesn't really have anything to do with what we were talking about, but I've been thinking about it ever since Leah came over today."

Paul gave me a confused glance, the car lurching forward once again. "Wait a second, why did Leah come over?"

"She stopped by the house today," I confessed. "Something about making sure I was prepared for tonight, but honestly, I think she was just lonely and wanted some company. She said – "

"What did she tell you?" Paul forcefully interrupted, sounding both fearful and furious. "Because I swear, whatever she told you isn't true."

I highly doubted that was the case but I didn't voice that to Paul. " _Relax_ , she didn't say anything incriminating. Well, she didn't say anything I didn't already know. The conversation was about you, but not in the way you would think. It was just… something she said in passing confused me."

"Which was?"

I bit my lip. "Reasons behind the conversation aside, she said, 'I'd be the last person to ever judge you on shitty taste in boyfriends and reasons on not having a relationship.' It's probably none of my business but… was Leah in an abusive relationship?"

The immediate response I received surprised me, and the assurance in Paul's voice left no room for questions. " _No._ Definitely not."

"You sound sure of yourself."

"Because I _am_ sure. Leah's had some bad luck when it comes to relationships, and that bad luck obviously left her bitter and scornful, but she was _never_ abused." Paul shifted awkwardly in his seat, running a hand over his face. "She'll probably kill me for even telling you this, but you would have found out sooner or later so it might as well be from me. A few years ago, before Emily even moved here, Leah and Sam were engaged."

I whipped my head around so fast that I felt a pain in my neck. I felt bad for Leah, yes, but the thought of her with Sam just seemed… wrong. Now that I thought about it, it felt odd to picture him with anyone but Emily. They were just so right for each other, like two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly. Leah and Sam… no, their personalities would just clash too harshly - all brass and angst and... superiority. "No way, are you serious?"

"I couldn't be more serious," he said. "They were happy – that's what I've heard, at least. But one day Emily came down to visit from the Makah rez and something inside Sam just clicked. It was love at first sight. Not long after he met Emily, he broke the engagement with Leah, and not long after _that_ he was engaged to Emily." He shrugged. "They've been together ever since."

I snorted. "Love at first sight, right."

"Oh come on, Katherine," he gave me a slightly scolding look. "You've seen Sam and Emily together. You know how great they are for each other; they level each other out. Was he supposed to marry Leah when he didn't feel anything for her anymore? When he knew they were wrong for each other?"

"Of course not," I replied quickly. "But you can't just lose feelings for a person and gain them for someone else that fast. That's not how it works. Those things take time."

"No offense, but you aren't really the first person I'd go to if I'm looking for expertise on relationships and love at first sight."

There was a pause, and an expression appeared on Paul's face that clearly said that he thought he went too far. "Touché," I conceded in the end. "I still think it's shitty deal, though."

"Never said it wasn't," Paul stated sincerely. "Hurting Leah was and still is one of Sam's greatest regrets, but he knew that it would just be better for both of them in the long run. He and Leah were happy at the time, yes, but he knew they wouldn't be happy forever, so it was good that he saved them the trouble. And now he and Emily are happier than ever with a baby on the way –"

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself from saying them. "And Leah's got the short end of the stick, stuck hanging around her ex-fiancé and boyfriend-stealing cousin."

It was the first time I had ever seen Paul legitimately angry, his eyes flashing with something close to fury and aggravation, as if this was a conversation that he had had more than once with someone, and with the way he was talking about it, I was sure that this wasn't the first time that he was forced to defend Sam's actions. "Don't talk about them like that," he demanded, his knuckles turning white as his long fingers curled around the steering wheel. "You can't talk about things that you don't understand. Sam and Emily were meant to be together, and if Leah still has trouble understanding that after almost eight years, then that's her problem."

"I'm not saying it to badmouth Emily and Sam," I shot back, tossing up my hands in exasperation. "But Leah is absolutely _miserable_ in La Push; I barely know her and it's not hard to figure out that she hates it here and that she would rather go somewhere else. I don't understand why she doesn't just leave if she's so unhappy."

Paul grimaced, his jaw tightening, and he mumbled something under his breath that I couldn't hear. "She can't just leave," he said firmly. "This is her home, her family is here."

"So?" I asked. "She shouldn't have to spend the prime of her life in a place where she's miserable. She's smart, independent; if she left, she could find a place in the world where she actually has an opportunity to be happy."

I hadn't even noticed that we had arrived at our destination until Paul pulled into a parking spot near the restaurant. "Why are you arguing so hard for her welfare if you're doing the exact thing that you claim she _shouldn't_ be doing? It's no secret that you were miserable when you moved here – I have quite a vivid memory of a sore crotch that will attest to that –"

I frowned.

" – but you came here for a reason, didn't you? Even if you didn't want to? Leah has her reasons for staying. So you either need to practice what you preach or stop arguing for Leah's wellbeing when you don't know what you're fucking talking about."

Silence.

A weary sigh. "Katherine –"

But I was no longer listening. I shoved open the door to his truck, climbed out, and immediately headed toward the door to the restaurant. From behind me, I heard him mutter ' _Fuck,_ ' but I didn't even acknowledge the fact that he had jumped out of his truck and was rushing to keep up with me. "Katherine, could you just wait –"

I whipped around, ready to scold him in the middle of the parking lot and not caring that there were people slowing their pace to watch. "Let's get something straight here," I snapped, voice low and threatening. "The only reason I'm staying right now is because I don't want to pay an exorbitant amount of money for a cab back home. Second, I didn't move here of my own accord – I came to La Push because I had to, not because I wanted to, so the two situations are completely different. Thirdly, Leah Clearwater is a grown woman who's been wrongly scorned by someone who probably didn't deserve her in the first place, so she has every right to leave a toxic atmosphere if it's making her unhappy. Hell, I would _gladly_ join her if I could – maybe then I could get away from the idiotic Cro-Magnon's with their 'me man, you woman' attitudes that live in La Push!"

My chest was heaving, having hissed most of my rant in one long breath. Without giving Paul a chance to respond, I stormed to the entrance of the restaurant, stopping only momentarily to snap, "What the hell are you looking at?" to two people who had stopped, gaping in interest, to watch our fight.

The hostess had on a bright smile that instantly faded the moment she saw the stormy look on my face. "Good evening, ma'am; how many in your party today?"

Before I could spitefully say, "Table for one," Paul appeared behind me and answered 'Two.' I frowned at him, crossing my arms over my chest, but he merely raised an eyebrow in my direction. When he moved to put a hand on my back to press me forward, I swatted him away and moved to follow the flustered hostess.

Our table was almost in the very back of the restaurant, in a quiet and scarily intimate corner that appeared to be miles away from anyone else. The hostess barely said two words before she left us alone, and I angrily pulled out my chair, not caring as it scratched against the floor.

"Are you going to pout and scowl at me all night?" Paul asked. "Or are you going to act like a mature adult?"

"Mature adu-" I scowled darkly, shaking my head in his general direction, "Oh, you have got _some_ nerve."

Something glinted in his eyes, a determination and an unwillingness to back down that was very familiar. "I'm not going to apologize for what I said. You're only this pissed at me because you know it's true."

I pursed my lips, not saying a word.

It was at that moment that our waitress chose to appear. When she gave us a hesitant smile, it was obvious that the hostess had told her to use caution when coming up to our table. "Good evening," she said, handing over two menus. "Do you know what you want to drink? Maybe a nice glass of wine?"

I immediately peered at her from over the top of my menu. "What kind of red's do you offer?"

She perked up, obviously glad to be able to answer my question. "We have an Italian Chianti that goes well with any of our meals, especially the oil based sauces, but if you were planning to get a dish with red sauce then might I recommend the _Tenuta dell'Ornellaia Masseto?*_ It's a Merlot and not quite as harsh as the other reds."

"Isn't that the winery that imports directly from Tuscany?" At her confirming nod, I added, "What year?"

"2006."

"Excellent," I nodded. "I'll have a glass of that, and some water, please, with lemon."

"Good choice," she beamed. "And for you, sir?"

The conversation that I had just had with the waitress had to have been absolutely gibberish to Paul, because he was staring at me in befuddlement. I merely rolled my eyes, and turned back to the expectant waitress. "He'll take the same."

"I'll have that out for you in just a moment, then."

When she was gone, Paul leaned forward over the table. "How do you know so much about wine?"

"I like wine," I simply stated. "And I'm going to need a glass if I'm going to make it through this dinner without losing my mind. I take it you aren't really a big wine fan?"

He ignored my obvious dig and shook his head. "Not really," he gave me a pointed look. "I don't really drink."

I sent him a questioning look, and I was sure that my cheeks heated in embarrassment when I realized what he was implying. His father was an abusive alcoholic; of _course_ he wouldn't like to drink. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to order it for you; I didn't even realize –"

"No big deal, nothing wrong with a glass now and then. Besides, alcohol doesn't really affect me as much as it used to – higher tolerance, I guess – but it's really the principle of the thing."

The chair squeaked slightly as I shifted, grateful for a break in the tension when the waitress brought over the tray of drinks.

Now, it's needless to say that our night out didn't really start out as well as either of us had expected. We spent much of the time fighting or saying things that brought too many awkward silences, but it was at this moment that the night finally took a turn for the worse, because when the waitress moved toward our table with the heavy tray of wine and water, she tripped over her own two feet and the glasses went flying…

Right into my lap.

Everyone in the restaurant froze, too in shock to move as they gasped and watched, paralyzed. I stared down at the red wine that slowly seeped into my dress and pale sweater, and the freezing ice water that chilled my already cold skin. The waitress looked frantic and frightened, and Paul had an infuriating expression of amused horror.

Then everything was moving at once. Many people tried to stand to get a better view, while several other waiters and waitresses rushed over to clean up the mess before it got out of hand. "Oh, my goodness!" Our waitress exclaimed, snatching up my napkin from the table to automatically wipe the liquid away from my chest. "I'm so sorry, I can't believe I just did that – ma'am I cannot tell you how sorry I am –"

Across the table from me, Paul was obviously trying to hold back his laughter.

I simply reached out and forcefully took the cloth napkin from her hands, pushing my chair back. Piece of ice and heavy splashes of water and wine fell to the floor, and I grimaced down at the ruined fabric, dabbing at it half-heartedly. "It's fine," I begrudgingly stated, not wanting to cause any more of a scene than I already had, "It's completely, _absolutely_ okay."

With my strained tone and the expression on her face, it was obvious that she didn't believe me in the slightest.

Paul stood and walked around, taking the napkin out of my hands and gently pushing me to the side. "Go clean yourself off in the bathroom, just make sure to watch your step so you don't step on any stray pieces of glass."

I did as he asked, rolling my eyes when I saw the waitress follow close behind, muttering quick apologies under her breath and wringing her hands together nervously, acting like I would suddenly reel back and slap her. She even went so far as to rush in front of me to open the bathroom door, her cheeks bright red.

My shoes clacked against the polished marble floors, and I stared pitifully at myself in the mirror. Dark stains seeped throughout the dress and bits of my skin near my chest and legs seemed to be tinted red from the wine. I grimaced at my reflection, reaching out to take several paper towels to dab at the stains, but knowing that the dress was ruined.

The waitress did the same. "Really, I can't tell you how sorry I am for this. I just tripped, and – oh goodness, those stains probably won't ever come out, will they?"

"Probably not, no," I said honestly, blunt.

If anything, her cheeks went darker. "I'm really, _really_ so-"

"Please stop apologizing," I interrupted, turning to give her a stern look and gently pushing her hand away from the dress from where it held napkins already stained red from where they attempted to seep up the wine. "It's fine. Accidents happen." And they always seemed to happen to me.

She fell quiet, but her apologies were still written all over her face.

I rubbed at my eyes with my free hand, glancing at the pathetic form I portrayed.

"It honestly isn't that noticeable," the waitress said, trying her hardest to be friendly and make light of the situation. "As for your boyfriend – well, he wasn't really looking at your dress –"

I gave her a scathing look. "He's not my boyfriend. And it _is_ noticeable." I straightened myself up, and then softened at the embarrassed expression she bore. "If you'll excuse me…" At my pointed glance, she stepped aside.

Back in the actual restaurant, a tall man that I assumed was the manager was talking to Paul, obviously apologizing profusely from the way his hands were waving back and forth. Both of them looked up when I approached. Paul's lips twitched, but the manager looked horrified.

" _Signora,_ " he said, accent light and lilting as he gestured to a bottle of wine on the table, "my most humblest apologies for our little mishap. To make up for it, we're going to give you a free bottle of the Merlot in an attempt to make up for our little mistake, and hope that you won't let this sully your view of our humble establishment."

" _Va bene,"_ I replied with ease, but there was a heavy tightness to my voice that I was unable to keep out. Both men raised their eyebrows when I replied in Italian. " _È stato un incidente_." Then I turned to Paul. "For some strange reason I find that I'm not really in the mood for Italian anymore. Do you mind if we go someplace else?"

He stared at me for half of a moment as if he was going to say something, then shrugged. "Fine with me."

" _Grazie_ for the apology, _signore,_ but I think we're just going to go," I told the manager, snatching up my purse and the bottle of wine from the table. " _Buena sera._ " Without another word, I pushed my shoulders back, held my head high, and walked straight out of the restaurant with whatever pride I held left.

Paul followed close behind, falling into step beside me and twirling his keys between his fingertips. "Well that was... interesting. Since when can you speak Italian? Or is that on a 'need to know' basis."

"Let's never mention it ever again," I mumbled, handing him my purse and the bottle of wine so I could successfully rid myself of the soaked sweater. "And I took Italian in college. I'm not fluent but I know enough to get by if I ever found myself in Rome."

Paul eyed me curiously as I tossed the ruined sweater over my arm, reaching back to take my purse from him again. "A woman of many talents, I see."

I sent him a _look._

"Not the time for jokes. Got it."

Once we were in the car, I huffed, tossing my purse to the seat in between us and taking the bottle of wine so that he could start the car. "I cannot believe this."

"Shit happens," he said. "So our plan for Italian food crapped out, so what? No harm done. There are lots of places we could go."

"Like where?"

He hesitated, pulling out of the parking spot. "Well, there's this deli nearby that makes pretty great Panini's. It isn't exactly Italian food with red wine but it's something; one of my favorite places in Port Angeles, actually."

There was something about the simplicity that sounded positively heavenly. "Sounds good to me."

oOo

 _*'Tenuta dell'Ornellaia Masseto' is a real winery in Tuscany, Italy, and a single bottle of their 2006 Merlot can sometimes go for over $940._

 _*Grazie - thank you; Va Bene - it's fine; Buena sera - good evening; È stato un incidente - it was an accident._

 _Next_ _Time : oh, this one is a doozy by far (and one of my favorites); it involves a near miss, heartfelt conversations about experiences, Carlisle Cullen, and Audrey pondering the concept of soul-mates._


	15. A Broken Wrist in the Emergency Room

Chapter 15:

 _"Happiness is holding someone in your arms and knowing you hold the whole world." - Orhan Pamuk, Snow_

Paul wasn't exactly the world's best conversationalist, but I found out that he was a hell of a great listener. Talking with him was almost effortless, like breathing, and we fell into a certain rhythm that seemed entirely our own away from the chaos that surrounded us. We talked like old friends, about everything at once and about nothing at all, just enjoying the cool night breeze and chowing down on Panini's from the nearby deli.

For years, my life had revolved around work, Luke, and Isaac. There wasn't much time to 'hang out' with people, and any fancy dinners that I attended were for business purposes. It had been a long time – much too long – since I had felt comfortable being around someone so casually and being so open, _especially_ around a man as intimidating and dangerous as Paul, but with him… it was just different. It really reached the point where I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn't Audrey Perdue, Ice Queen lawyer extraordinaire, and Paul Lahote, the gigantic and frustrating and annoying native man. For now, we were simply Katherine and Paul, and it didn't have to get any more complicated than that.

A soft laugh of disbelief left my lips as I placed the half-eaten Panini back in its Styrofoam box, brushing a few crumbs off of my hands with a napkin and following Paul's example when he leaned against the railing to look out on the ocean. In the distance, thunder rumbled throughout the dark clouds that scattered above the water.

"What's so funny?" Paul asked automatically with a mouth nearly full of food, crumbs popping out of the corners of his lips in a way that was both disgusting and endearing.

My lips twitched as I studied him, and I simply shook my head and moved my gaze elsewhere. "Nothing, nothing, I'm just thinking. This is all just so surreal to me," I explained with a contented sigh. "Strange, I guess. I don't ever do things like this – at least, I didn't when I was back in New York."

"Do what? Go on walks near the ocean and eat Panini's?"

A smile escaped me, and despite the itchiness and stickiness of my ruined dress and sweater, I felt at ease as I turned and leaned my back against the railing, tossing back my head and enjoying the chilly air. "Kind of, yes, but back home I never really had time to go out and do anything with the few friends I had – I was always swamped with work or doing things for the boys." I paused, absently picking at a piece of the Styrofoam box. "Which says a lot about me and my boring life, I suppose."

"Not boring," Paul argued gently, turning his head to face me. "It just tells me that you cared about your career and you care a lot about your family. That doesn't mean you're boring, just determined. Task-driven. That isn't a bad thing."

My eyes flickered over to him when he moved again, shutting his own empty To-Go box. "No, it's not," I agreed. "But don't get me wrong – there was a time where I was content with my boring existence. There was drama with work, of course, as it is almost everywhere, but not in my personal life; there wasn't any confusion, and the world was in black and white. I was successful when I was boring; there was… peace in the monotony. I knew who I was and what I was supposed to be doing." I cleared my throat, and forced myself to give him a casual grin. "Then we moved to La Push and everything was thrown into a tailspin. It was like you said before – a few months ago, I would have given anything to be able to go back home."

His eyes glistened under the twinkle of the streetlights and I looked away, turning back around to face the sea. "And now?"

"Now…" I stared out at the waves crashing against the concrete below our feet, some of the spray even getting so high as to wet my ankles. The splashing water distorted the moonbeams that shined down upon the waves, and I curled my free hand around the cold iron railing. "Now I don't think I really know who I am anymore, but I do know this: I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to that life."

Paul playfully nudged my shoulder with his own. "Well don't look so sad about it; La Push _is_ a great place, despite its smallness and various shortcomings. And I mean, think about it: maybe it was fate, your own choices, or even something else, but something brought you here and you have to admit, it wasn't as bad as you originally thought. Maybe you'll end up staying here forever – being happy here."

Another burst of thunder rumbled - closer than before - and a flash of lightning flickered across the water, but Paul and I barely noticed. At his words I had turned back to him, staring in confusion at his words because he seemed to understand everything I was thinking. I found myself replying sincerely, though I sounded confused at the honesty in my own words. "I _am_ happy in La Push. I don't think I was ever actually happy in New York; content, yeah, successful _definitely_ , but… now that I think about it, I can't really think of a moment where I just felt… happy to be where I was. Happy to be _who_ I was."

"Then coming to La Push was just a blessing in disguise," he replied, voice low, and he looked so intense in that moment that I felt my heart skip a beat. "Sometimes bad things happen in life that seem like mountains at the time, but really they're just tiny grains of sand. And sometimes those bad things that we think are going to ruin our life… you get to the point where you have to wonder how you ever lived without them in the first place."

I laughed and shook my head, aware that we were close - much closer than we had ever been before - and something about that closeness sent a warning through my head; it was such a tiny warning, though, like a little tinkling bell that seemed irrelevant at the time, so I merely shoved it aside for what I was actually feeling: that gleeful, unexplainable emotion that you get when you've spent so long being _lost_ but then you finally find a person who understands - someone who _finds_ you - that feeling that I never wanted to end, that feeling that I wanted to keep experiencing forever, even if it was with someone as infuriating as Paul.

"When did you get so wise?" I questioned teasingly.

He grinned that sideways, crooked grin of his with those beautiful white teeth that I was growing to love. "Let's just say I speak from experience. One day, I'm sure you're going to feel the same way I do."

For some reason, I had that inkling feeling that he wasn't just talking about shared life experiences anymore. "You sound pretty confident in yourself," my grin slowly fell as I spoke softly, after a small beat of silence. "Call me crazy, but I don't think we actually have the same experiences, Paul. Maybe we never will."

"You will," he replied assuredly. "I know you will. It'll take time, but you'll see it, too. Eventually."

"How do you know?" I asked.

It took a moment for him to answer, but when he did, his words overwhelmed me. "Because I think we've both been running in circles all of our lives looking for something we've never had for ourselves – something that will complete us, that will... make us feel whole. And I don't know about you, but I think I've found it."

His words were so final and assured that it completely erased any suggestion that we were talking about platonic emotions. If this were a cheesy romance novel, this would be the moment that the hero would ride up in a blaze of glory, sweep the heroine off her feet in a breathtaking kiss, and they would ride off into the sunset and on to their happily ever after. It was the moment in _The Breakfast Club_ where Judd Nelson pumped his fist in the air, in _The Notebook_ where Noah and Allie run into each other's arms in the pouring rain and kiss, and in _Pride and Prejudice_ when Mr. Darcy tells Elizabeth Bennet that he loves her, ' _most ardently._ '

But this wasn't a cheesy romance novel written for starstruck lovers, a movie about coming of age, or even a period piece about the meaning of love despite obstacles. It just _was._ Paul and I weren't a hero and heroine of any means, and certainly not of some silly story. This was real life with real problems and real feelings and actual emotions, and because it was reality and not some silly story... nothing really worked out the way it should have.

In short, I panicked. I seriously, legitimately panicked. This conversation was much too deep and emotional for what had been deemed a 'not date,' and when Paul started to lean forward toward me with this sultry, dangerous look in his eyes… well, a feeling that was akin to hysteria began to bubble up in the pit of my stomach. He was too close, much too close for me to be entirely comfortable – an icy chill went up my spine, fearful and piercing. Though I knew that no harm would ever come to me from Paul… it soon became clear that years of being wary around the opposite sex had taken its toll.

I was sure that my cheeks were bright enough to be their own beacon at that point in my embarrassment, but that was the least of my worries. Paul was moving forward for what he surely thought would be that magical 'cure all, end all' fairytale kiss, but it wasn't something I was ready for by any means, so I followed my own instincts and took a step back…

Right off the high curb and onto the nearly empty street, directly into a muddy puddle.

The Styrofoam container went flying as I fell, sandwich suddenly airborne, but it was quickly forgotten as I automatically reached out my hands to break my fall. It was the worst thing I could have done. My palms scraped harshly against the concrete, leaving tiny scratches and marks that broke through the skin and dribbled blood, and a sharp, resounding crack went through the air. I let out a cry of pain, a slicing sharpness spreading through my left wrist and up my arm.

Then because gravity was a thing that apparently existed, the sandwich was suddenly falling back to earth and landed directly on my lap, lettuce and sauce and meat and bits of bread spreading over my dress and thighs.

Both Paul and I were in shock at what had just occurred, too surprised by the sudden turn of events to do anything but stare at each other while I sat on the ground in the puddle and clutched my quickly swelling and throbbing wrist to my chest. I choked out a disbelieving sound that was almost a sob of pain, looking down at myself and at the mess that I had become so quickly.

I was sure I looked positively pitiful, miserable, and just plain pathetic, and that was probably what prompted Paul to move to my side so quickly, kneeling on the ground in the mud and reaching out his hands to cradle my wrist – but I shook my head, flinching away from him. "No – don't – just don't touch me," I said in a strained voice, nerves already on a tight string. "Give me a second. I need," I swallowed, squeezing my eyes shut. "I need a minute."

He didn't move, but he didn't reach for me again either. Instead he settled back on his heels and waited, obviously sensing that I needed a moment before I completely blew a gasket. I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain, feeling nasty water slip under my dress and stain my skin and underclothes, and I sucked in a shaky breath through my nose and out through my mouth in an attempt to calm myself.

It took me several seconds that seemed like years to collect myself, but just as I turned to express to Paul the fact that I probably needed to get to a hospital to get my wrist checked out as soon as possible, the night decided to throw another bombshell on us. As if it couldn't get any worse, it began to rain. Heavily.

I nearly burst into tears. "Oh, _fucking –_ "

The rain fell heavier, but still Paul didn't move. Instead, he spoke, raising his voice to be heard over the sudden storm. "Do you mind if I help you up? We really need to get you out of the rain as soon as possible."

Then I _did_ let out a miserable sound that was somewhere in between a sob and a laugh, much to both of our surprise, and it was a combination of the pain from my wrist and my confusion and my conflicted emotions, because that was the first time, the _first time_ that someone had ever asked if they could touch me, even though it was something as simple as just helping me to my feet. The fact that he asked – even if it was probably just him thinking back to the last time he had touched me without my permission – meant more than I would ever be able to explain to him, and despite this horrible night and the disaster it had been, I know that progress had been made for both of us.

All I could do was sniffle and nod, and I let myself be weak for a moment as he gently wrapped an arm protectively around my shoulders and pulled me to my feet, almost shielding my body with his as he led me back toward the truck. It felt like we could have walked miles when it was really only a short distance, and I was sure I had curled myself into Paul's body to get some of the warmth emanating from his skin.

Paul had settled me into the truck and was climbing in the driver's side faster than what seemed humanly possible, but I was too dazed at that point to even notice. I was too focused on the warmth that was suddenly bursting out the truck's vents, and the disgusting mix of muddy rainwater and food that was seeping onto Paul's seats. "I look like I went swimming in a landfill," I mutter miserably, frowning when Paul pushed a familiar sweatshirt in my direction. "You'll have to throw that away after if I put it on, because it's going to be a mess," I warned.

"As long as you're warm, I don't care," he said sternly. "I'm taking you to the hospital in Forks right now to get your wrist checked out. From the way it's swelling, it has to be broken."

Yeah, I came to the same conclusion with the endless pain that shot up my arm. "Why not the one here?"

His eyes flickered over to me then quickly back to the road, but not before I saw something frustrated flash in his expression – or no, not frustrated really, but… pained? Regretful? "Because I know a guy who works at the hospital in Forks. I don't really like him, but he's a hell of a good doctor and he'll make sure you're taken care of. With him, we won't have to wait just to see someone – they'll take us immediately when he knows it's me."

I simply nodded, too tired to argue with him, and slipped the sweatshirt over my head, automatically pushing up the long sleeves before wiping my face. My hair dripped into the heavy fabric and I shivered, hands shaking and cold from the top of my head down to my toes. "Can you turn the heat up a bit?" I asked, kicking off my shoes and pulling up my knees to my chest.

"It's up to full blast," he muttered.

Of course it was. At this rate I would freeze to death before we even got to the hospital. What a hell of a way to go.

Paul must have gotten wind of my thoughts, because he threw one arm in my direction. "Come here."

I stared at him. "Excuse me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Scoot over and come closer. I run a few degrees warmer than normal, and you look like you're freezing."

And _oh_ , it was so tempting. He wasn't lying, of course, because with all the time I spent around him I knew that Paul practically radiated heat, but was it really a good idea? The sane part of me knew that it was a terrible idea, especially after what led us into this situation in the first place - the... almost kiss? Yeah, definitely a bad idea.

But the insane part of me just thought, " _Oh, fuck it._ "

Begrudgingly, I scooted myself across the seats and curled myself next to him, almost flinching when he gently let his arm rest around my shoulder for the second time. It was like we both had let out a sigh of relief, and I found myself moving even closer to get a bit of the warmth that came naturally to him. "Better?" he asked, rubbing my arm with his free hand.

I nodded into his shoulder, knowing that I was effectively staining his pristine white shirt but not caring in the slightest. "Yeah."

That was about it for conversation, to be honest. For the entire time that it took us to arrive in the Forks hospital parking lot – much faster than it should have been, thanks to the probably illegal speeds that Paul had been going – Paul didn't say another word. Every few minutes he would shift and run his hand comfortingly up my arm as if trying to warm me up with a bit of friction, but he kept his mouth shut.

But then again, so did I, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Now that the chaos had died down, I knew that we were both thinking about the reason for this little trip to the hospital: Paul had tried to kiss me, and I had moved away. I knew this would come back later to bite me in the ass, but for now I left it as it was.

I refused to feel sorry for pulling away, either. I wasn't ready, and I wasn't going to move forward with him when I _wasn't_ ready, but still… I wondered 'what if?' What would have happened if I hadn't moved away? Would we still be there, kissing on the pier, despite the storm raging around us? What if Paul hadn't even moved forward? Would we be on our way back home, parting as the same two friends we had been before this 'night from hell' had even began?

I didn't know, and I never would. But I did know one thing:

After this night, nothing would ever be the same.

oOo

Suffice to say, we received some weird looks when we walked into the hospital lobby area, and even more weird looks when Paul walked up to the nurse's station and demanded to see someone named Doctor Carlisle Cullen. After the flustered nurse paged the doctor, who luckily was in his office at the time, I was led into a small but private room where I was given a spare pair of scrubs by a nurse to get out of my own clothes, ("because you're starting to smell a bit like a dumpster, dear, no offense intended"), and told to clean up as best as I could so that they could bring me to get my X-Ray.

Which I did – clean myself up, that is - with some help from the nurse who wanted me to be mindful of my wrist; and though I wasn't quite able to take the hot shower that I wanted, it was nice to get out of those disgusting clothes and into something clean. Paul waited patiently outside the bathroom door, foot tapping an incessant rhythm into the marble floor as if he was anticipating something. I didn't blame him; with the bad luck we already had, I wouldn't have been surprised if something else happened that made the night even worse.

"No chance that you're pregnant, right?" the nurse asked as she gently placed the protective apron over my chest and fixed my arm under the machine.

I blanched, sure that my eyes were bugging out of my head. "No, of course not!"

She gave me a look of surprise at my harsh and quick denial. "Just something we have to ask, sweetheart, just in case. Besides, with a man that looks like that…" she whistled lowly, giving me a conspiratorial wink, "I wouldn't blame you if you jumped into bed as much as humanly possible. Seems positively smitten with you, too."

I scowled. "Can we please just get back to the X-Ray?"

Sensing that I wasn't in the mood for more conversation or that she had simply struck a sensitive nerve, the nurse went silent. The machine clicked and whirred above me, and soon enough I was back in my private room with Paul scowling in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that was much too defensive for a place like a hospital.

And then the Doctor entered the room, and Paul's behavior changed completely - it had gotten worse, if that was actually possible. He almost immediately got to my feet to hover at my side, a permanent and dangerous scowl on his face. I gave him a strange look at his sudden movements, but he barely spared me a glance; instead his gaze was focused, unwavering, on Doctor Carlisle Cullen.

Doctor Cullen was a tall man, pale, blond, and so handsome that he could have easily passed for a medical professional/model on that stupid medical drama _General Hospital._ He was the exact opposite of Paul – where Paul was warm and fiery, Doctor Cullen was cool and calm and entirely collected, at ease in his environment. Where Paul was rugged and wild, Doctor Cullen was put together and refined.

"Good evening, Miss Montgomery," he said kindly. His voice was soft and lilting, but it still carried across the silent room. "It's nice to finally meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances." Then his gaze moved over to Paul and there was a flicker of something like frustration behind his eyes, but it was gone just as soon as it had appeared. "Mr. Lahote; good to see you again."

Paul simply pursed his lips and nodded, shoulders stiff.

Doctor Cullen pulled several dark sheets of X-Ray paper out of his folder and clipped them to a machine on the wall that he flipped on; light shined through the photographs, lighting up the outlines of the bones in my wrist. He pointed to a spot on the picture that was of my lower palm, where two bones had sharp jagged cracks. I resisted the urge to wince. "As you can see here, when you fell, you managed to put most of your weight on the palm of your left hand, fracturing the Pisiform and Scaphoid bones."

"So I have to have a cast?" I clarified.

"Indeed you do," he agreed, giving me a knowing, apologetic smile. "For somewhere between six to eight weeks, depending on how well you heal, but it isn't a very big fracture so it'll be over before you know it."

I frowned. "Six weeks?"

"And I'll prescribe you something for the pain," he added, gently lifting up my wrist from the pillow with freezing hands. He probed at it before reaching to a side table and grabbing what looked like antiseptic wipes. The blood from my scratched palms had already been cleaned once, but Doctor Cullen apparently saw something that the nurses didn't catch. The scratches stung as he pressed against them, and I struggled not to flinch away. Next to me, Paul protectively moved closer. "And I'll also give you an antibiotic, just to make sure that no bacteria somehow got into your palms when you fell."

I nodded, looking down at his pale hands. "Thanks."

"Not a problem in the slightest," he said with a dazzling smile. "I'm more than happy to help."

Paul coughed beside me, and I looked up to see the tightness in his jaw and around his eyes.

Carlisle's smile flickered, but his expression was still kind. "If you just wait a moment, I'll go and make the preparations for your cast, then you'll be free to go."

As soon as he left, I turned to Paul. "Okay, spill. What the hell is your problem?"

After a moment, he answered. "He puts me on edge."

"Who? Doctor Cullen?" At his nod, I pointed out, "You're the one who brought us here. If you didn't want me to be treated by him, why did you bring us?"

He grimaced. "Because as much as I hate to admit it, Carlisle is the best doctor within a 500 mile radius. Plus, the rez clinics are too underfunded and I don't know any of the doctors in Port Angeles that I trust enough to help you."

"Okay, well please," I waved him away, "take a few steps back. Your hovering is making me anxious."

He gave me a stern look, but didn't move.

"Okay, or you can just stand there like an asshole. That works, too."

But after a moment, Paul seemed to sense that I wasn't going to say anything else on the matter and decided to just change the subject. "You should probably give your brother a call; let him know what happened so he doesn't worry."

I glanced over at the clock – it was well after midnight, later than I had expected. "He's probably asleep by now and he has school tomorrow. I don't want to disturb him. I'll explain everything to him tomorrow morning when I bring him to school."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged.

Carlisle returned with the materials for the cast, immediately going to work without a word when I held out my arm. Paul had fallen silent once again, choosing instead to carefully watch over my shoulder as Carlisle methodically finished his task. "So," I started slowly. "How exactly do you two know each other?"

Both Paul and Carlisle exchanged a glance. "We have a mutual acquaintanceship in Jacob Black," Carlisle stated simply. "Jacob and his friends helped my family out of quite a rough spot a long time ago. We've had a companionship ever since. Jacob is also quite close to my daughter-in-law, Bella, and my granddaughter."

Granddaughter? Carlisle barely looked old enough to have a _daughter-in-law,_ let alone a _granddaughter._ Behind me, I heard Paul struggle to hide a snort. I glared at him, and Carlisle pointedly ignored him. Then I had a sudden thought. "Paul, is that where Jacob was the night of the bonfire?" I asked curiously. "When Billy told me that he was visiting a friend in Forks?"

Paul looked surprised at my question but nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, he was visiting the Cullen's."

"All done," said Carlisle swiftly, and I looked down to see that my wrist and part of my arm was covered in stiff white bandages that were tight enough to keep me from jostling the broken bones. "Good as new."

I grimaced, staring down pathetically at my wrist.

"Just make sure to wrap up the cast before you shower and not to jostle your arm. Mr. Lahote," he turned to Paul, "if I could talk to you outside for a moment? We'll get everything settled with your antibiotic and pain medication while you get some rest," he said kindly to me. "Like we talked about before, it's been a hectic night for you."

Paul tensed. "I'm not going to leave her alone."

I waved him away, missing the warning under his voice. "Just go. I'll be fine by myself for a few minutes. After all, I already broke my wrist - what else could possibly happen?"

The expression on Paul's face clearly told me that he was imagining the worst case scenario.

Rolling my eyes, I all but used my free hand to shove him forward. His skin was warm under my palm, and I doubt that he would have even budged under my touch if he wasn't just humoring me. But he did move forward, though was obviously reluctant as he slipped out the door behind Dr. Cullen.

Then I was alone, and I fell back against the scratchy sheets of the hospital bed.

What a day.

oOo

Much like the drive to the hospital, Paul barely said a word the entire ride back to my home, but there were moments where he partially opened his mouth to speak then quickly seemed to change his mind. He would shake his head, mouth falling shut, and I could see his jaw clench as he moved back to look out the windshield and face the road. I left him to his thoughts and own devices, already exhausted, frustrated, and slightly groggy from the pills that Doctor Cullen had prescribed.

Not that there was much that could be said, even if I was in the mood for conversation. The disastrous night had practically spoken for itself.

By the time we reached the unlit house, I had already steeled myself for a hasty goodbye to escape the awkward tension with the intention of leaving Paul alone in his truck, but my plan didn't work out the way I wanted. Instead he climbed out of the truck with me, chivalrously walking me up to the porch like a high school boy on his first date with his crush. For a while we simply stood there under the porch-light – I in the hospital scrubs and clutching onto my purse and the bottle of wine, and Paul with his dirty jeans and now-stained white shirt, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

I knew that there was something he wanted to say, so I gave him a little push and started the conversation for him. "So," I drawled. "That was a lot of fun. Let's never do it again, shall we?"

My funny comment did what I intended – he laughed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as if he was embarrassed. "Yeah, tonight didn't really turn out as I originally expected."

I gave him a wry grin, skin itchy inside my cast. "I don't think it turned out the way _either_ of us expected, to be honest."

He smiled wearily, and in the dim light it suddenly looked as if he had aged twenty years. The lines beside his eyes creased in frustration, and he looked physically pained. "You have no idea how sorry I am for everything that happened tonight. I had it all planned out," he said softly. "A nice dinner, good conversation where we wouldn't argue, and I wouldn't say anything stupid like I always do. This was my one chance to make you see that I'm not a bad guy –"

"I don't think you're a bad guy, Paul," I interrupted gently, wanting to put a reassuring hand on his arm but not having any hands to spare. "At least, not anymore. You drive me insane, yeah, but I don't think you're a bad guy. And you don't have to apologize for what happened; it wasn't as if it was _your_ fault. It was just a result of some bad luck and…" my voice trailed off as I remember the real reason for my stumble and broken wrist, "bad choices. The point is that if it all wouldn't have gone to complete hell, I think I actually would have had a good time."

He looked suspicious, like he didn't fully believe me. "Really?"

My lips twitched, and I shifted the heavy wine bottle in my arms. "Really. I could have done without the broken wrist, but hey – shit happens, I guess."

Though he still looked weary, his expression visibly brightened. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that I was growing on you."

"Don't push your luck," I responded immediately. Then I cleared my throat, absently playing with the strap of my purse. "Now, as fun as this back-and-forth is and as much as I'm sure the conversation would continue to be stimulating, I'm practically dead on my feet here and I really want to go shower and get to bed."

He smiled – a normal, bright smile that made his eyes light up – and I swear my heart melted just a tiny bit. "I completely understand," he nodded. "It's been a long night and I'm sure you want to go and take your hot shower, and get some rest."

I had every intention of just finding my key and doing exactly what Paul had said, but he spoke again, effectively making me freeze. He spoke with fear in his voice, an anxiety I had never heard from him before, and the words were so soft that I had to strain to hear them. "Can I hug you?"

The undercurrent of nervousness in the innocent question was an obvious signal to me that he fully expected me to say 'no,' or even pretend that I hadn't heard him at all. I did neither, because I already knew what my answer would be the moment the words were out of his mouth. It was in the fact that he _asked_ again instead of just assuming, searched for my permission before touching me like he so obviously wanted. It was in the pain in his voice and the twitch of his hands at his sides, the innocently hopeful glint in his eyes and the sudden, overwhelming feeling of longing in my chest for just one simple touch. Just one touch, one hug, one moment; that was it. Just to give myself a glimpse of what could have been.

 _Just one._

Instead of answering I simply placed my belongings on the wood beneath our feet, stood back up to my full height, and threw my arms around his torso. It took him a moment to comprehend what was happening since he obviously didn't expect me to be the one to make the first move, but soon enough his arms were winding around my waist and his chin came to rest on top of my dripping hair. Under my head I could feel his heart beat a strong, steady rhythm in his chest, and my fingers clutched at the back of his shirt. The warmth seeping through his clothing was almost stifling.

I don't know how long we stood there and I couldn't bring myself to care. It could have been seconds or hours or even a thousand days, but between Paul's sigh of relief that made his chest rumble and the contentment I felt at being wrapped up in such a soothing embrace, I could have stood there forever. Time was irrelevant; reality was nonexistent. For a moment, a single moment, it was just me and Paul – and though he would probably never know it, the person he held at that moment was not Katherine Montgomery, homely museum worker from New York. No, it was damaged, scorned, and defensive Audrey Perdue that drew strength from his touch. The real me – the 'me' I wish I could have shown him.

The 'me' that I actually wanted to be – not just for him, but for myself.

Later, once I had untangled myself from Paul with red cheeks, said my goodbyes and watched his retreating back as he drove away – once I had taken a long bath, chosen to skip the glass of wine I really wanted and substitute it with a cup of tea, and climbed into bed with the coziest pajamas I owned, I found myself pondering the concept of soul-mates.

I had always despised the very idea of a 'perfect other half.' The concept just seemed so ludicrous and laughable that I actually pitied those who felt they had met their perfect match – the person they claimed to be the other part of themselves. Oh, how the whole _thing_ used to make me cringe. Maybe it was because I had never felt it for myself, maybe it was because I pushed people away or simply looked down on romantic love, or maybe the idea of depending on someone else to complete me was just unappealing, but the truth of the matter was that, for a long time, I believed that anyone who thought they had found their soul mate was simply foolish. Happily ever after was not a thing that existed – just a childish daydream of young girls who don't know any better. It was all just too farfetched for me to logically accept.

I remember that I had once explained my point of view to a colleague and friend of mine, Lucy, a woman who was a hopeless romantic by nature. At my cynical attitude, she recommended one of her favorite books, something that she was sure would help me change my mind. I had rolled my eyes at time but humored her and read the book, and even though it wasn't exactly the type of novel that I would normally read, it did have some interesting theories, especially those theories involving soul mates.

The book* had explained that, unlike what everyone actually thinks, a soul mate doesn't exactly equal a perfect match and it doesn't necessarily have to be romantic. In fact, the opposite is supposedly true. A soul mate is a person that infuriates you, smacks you awake, and tears you apart to show you the parts of yourself that you hadn't even known that you had been hiding. Their purpose is to break you apart, rip your heart open, and make you so out of control that you have no choice but to redefine yourself.

Was that what Paul was for me? I didn't know and I wasn't sure if I _wanted_ to know, but there was something there that I hadn't noticed before – something overwhelming and fiery and beautiful and filled with open promises of the future. I had certainly been changed because of Paul, my view of the world (and of people in general) had definitely been torn to pieces, and it was no secret to anyone that he completely infuriated me on a daily basis.

But the book had also explained that a person would never stay with their perceived soul mate forever. No, that would have been much too painful, too complicated for everyone involved. That person is just supposed to come into your life, rip you apart, reveal a new layer of yourself to you, and then…

They leave.

So the way I saw it, either Paul was my soul mate (or something extremely close) and, like I had expected from the very beginning, we were both setting ourselves up for failure. Or Paul _wasn't_ my soul mate and he was just some infuriating ass that happened to cross my path, and that he would eventually mean nothing to me like any other random person I had crossed paths with over the years. Neither option was very appealing.

But as it turned out, it was all a moot point anyway.

It was really one of those moments in life where you have to think, "if I had only known then what I know now…" But I didn't. If I had known what Paul and I would have to go through in the coming months, I honestly don't know what I would have done. I don't know if I would have packed the boys in the truck and left La Push without looking back before things became too hectic, or if I would have driven over to Paul's house at that very moment and finished our 'almost kiss.'

If I had known that _I_ would be the one to destroy Paul, if I had truly known the hell-storm that was coming for us, if I had known that _I_ would be the one to eventually leave - more than once, really - and that I would lose a part of myself along the way…

Maybe I would have done things differently.

Because as I soon found out the hard way, nothing is ever as it seems.

oOo

 _On a serious note: consent is important, people. And so is respecting a person's boundaries. This is dedicated to those people who make consent a natural part of relationships like Paul did when he asked before touching Audrey!_

 _*The book I'm referring to is Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. The quote is quite a long one and was edited for my own purposes, but it is about the importance of soul mates and I highly suggest that you look it up if you have the chance!_

 _Next Time:_ _a birthday barbecue, Isaac hints at a secret to his friends, and that wonderful statement, "we need to talk."_


	16. A Surprise at the Birthday Party

_Terribly sorry for getting off schedule with the updates but I do have a valid excuse: A few weeks ago, someone in my tight knit group of friends tragically passed away in the hospital after an attempted suicide. I've spent the last few days with my friends as we helped each other grieve, contacting people to break the news, dealing with the fact that we all have a lot of questions that will remain unanswered, and prepping for the funeral. Suffice to say that I've barely had time to sleep let alone write fanfiction and I've only recently gotten back home from being out of state for the funeral._

 _I'm not sure when updates will get back to normal because I still have a lot on my plate with everything that has been going on, plus college and other personal issues, but hopefully this will hold you all over until I have time to write again._

 _This chapter is dedicated to Daniel - "To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." Mischief managed, old friend. We're with you until the very end. Always._

oOo

Chapter 16:

" _It's no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then." – Lewis Carroll,_ _Alice in Wonderland_

The days flew by. The morning of Isaac's birthday came around the corner faster than I originally expected, and Isaac spent the days leading up to his special day smugly reminding me that he was, in fact, going to be a legal adult. Knowing that it would only spoil his mood, I didn't bother to point out that being a legal adult didn't excuse him from having to clean his room or take out the garbage every day. I let him have his fun where he could get it; after all, he deserved a little happiness.

I set my alarm several hours earlier than usual in order to prepare for Jacob's arrival with the truck, as well as to cook breakfast – a rare event that didn't happen often since I never really had the time. But today, I made time for it, climbing out of my bed before the sun had even risen. With a fluffy robe loosely tied around my waist and a cup of coffee in my hand, I settled down on the porch swing outside and waited for the now familiar rumble of tires against gravel to come rolling down the driveway.

And it did, bringing with it Jacob Black and Paul Lahote. This wasn't exactly a surprise. Paul had been at the house so often nowadays that he could have been a part of the décor. Besides, I was sure that Jacob would need a ride home after this, so seeing Paul's truck coming up behind the old Chevy didn't even cause me to send a second glance. Instead I sipped at my coffee, eyeing them both from over the rim of the mug.

"Morning," Paul called out cheerfully, hopping out of his truck. "Big day today, isn't it?"

Indeed it was. Not only was today Isaac's eighteenth birthday, it was also the day that Emily had decided to have a celebratory party at her house. She had immediately come up with the idea the moment I told her that it was going to be Isaac's birthday, and had insisted even when I told her that a party was unnecessary – that we were just going to have a simple celebration with family. Emily wouldn't even hear of it. "Nonsense," she had said, looking intimidating as she placed her hands on her hips. "The three of you are family and we're more than happy to do it." And she absolutely refused to let me say anything else on the subject.

"Is Emily sure that she doesn't want me to bring anything today?" I asked as the two men approached the porch. "Because I could; it wouldn't be a problem at all, and I wouldn't want her to go out of her way for us."

Jacob simply waved a hand in the hair to shove away my words as he tossed me the old key for the truck, which stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of the yard. Now all I had to do was hope that Isaac didn't suddenly decide to look out of his window before I surprised him. "Nah, it's fine. Honestly, you need to stop asking. Emily's happy to do it, you know. She likes having you around."

I pursed my lips, taking another sip of my coffee. "If you say so."

"How long have you been awake?" Paul asked as he and Jacob leaned against the railings across from me.

"A while," I replied. "I had a few things to get ready before the day started, then I wanted to prep for breakfast. I'm making Isaac's favorite – chocolate chip pancakes." At their raised eyebrows, I continued, "and no, you aren't allowed to stay and eat with us. I don't have enough pancake mix to feed the both of you."

The pair left not long after expressing their disappointment at not being fed, with promises to see me at the Uley household later that day. And in Paul's case, not before giving me a warm hug. Not that I was complaining, of course, because it was as if a hug from Paul could cure any ailment I was experiencing at that moment – like I could actually forget that the outside world existed for half of a moment and enjoy the peace that came with being wrapped up in someone else's arms.

It was a beautiful feeling.

But complicated relationship aside and forgetting about Paul's wonderful hugs – which shouldn't have been as wonderful as they actually were – I shook myself out of my thoughts and turned back to the task at hand. The metal stovetop let out a scraping noise as I fiddled with the pan, the smell of pancakes and warm maple syrup wafting through the air. I hummed lightly to myself, in a bright mood knowing that today would be a good day. A happy day. A day of celebration and a light in dark times.

From where he was chowing down on pancakes drowned in syrup, Luke kicked his feet back and forth and turned to me, a blinding smile on his face. "Mommy, we're going to Miss Emily's for the party today, right?"

"Yeah, sweetie," I replied happily, adding a small scoop of chocolate chips to the new pancake batter. "As soon as your uncle gets out of bed, eats his breakfast, and we give him his present, we're going to head over there."

"Do you think he's going to like his present?" he asked innocently, frowning down at his hands. Then he held his palms up to me and added, "Sticky hands, mommy."

I smiled knowingly, moving over to wipe his hands with a damp cloth when he held them out. "I'm sure he's going to _love_ his present. Now, go on, finish your breakfast, and try not to get the syrup all over your hands, okay? Don't want to have them stain your pajamas, would we?"

Isaac trudged down the stairs not long after, bleary-eyed and yawning but having been drawn by the smell of a hot breakfast. His hair was askew and he was still clad in his pajamas, but he looked content and fairly cheerful despite the early hour. "Are those chocolate chip pancakes?" he questioned, eyes twinkling as he joked, "Any particular reason for the special breakfast?"

"Oh, like you don't know," I teased, planting a kiss on the top of his head when he sat at the table. "Happy birthday, hon. Eighteen… _God,_ you make me feel so old. It feels like it was only yesterday that I was helping you learn how to add and subtract, and now you're going to be going to college!"

"You _are_ old," he laughed, grinning when I placed a stack of the pancakes in front of him and slid over the warm syrup. I smacked the back of his head at his sarcastic comment, and he simply swatted me away. "But you don't have to worry, Katherine. I'll still home from college all the time to visit you in your nursing home."

"Oh, ha, ha," I replied sarcastically, but couldn't help but smile proudly as I moved to the fridge to pour him a glass of milk. "That's something else we really need to start looking into while we have the chance – college planning. Have you thought about where you want to go or what you want to do after high school? The earlier you send off applications, the better off you'll be."

He chewed on a piece of the pancake thoughtfully. "I always thought that I would head back to D.C. for college – go to Georgetown like you did – but now I'm not so sure. Things are a lot different now and I kind of like it here. Maybe I'll apply nearby, like the University of Seattle? Or maybe UCLA, or even CalTech if I pass the qualifications to even get accepted there."

"All good schools," I conceded, letting the cup of milk settle next to his plate before moving over to wash the dirty pan and bowls. "Seattle University has the country's top Legal Writing program, if you were interested in following in your wonderful sister's footsteps and going into Law," I hinted, chuckling at the stern look he gave me. "Or not. No need to decide your major right away; you have lots of time to figure out what you wanted to do – get your basics done, experience some of everything before you decide. Are you sure you want to be within the area, though? Honestly, I don't know if it would be safe for you to go to Georgetown under the circumstances, but I would fully support you if you wanted to go to school in New York, Maryland, Virginia… just to be a little closer to home."

"But that's not home anymore, is it?" he replied, waving his fork in the air to emphasize his point. "Somewhere nearby, definitely, at least in driving distance on the off chance that I wanted to see you all without having to fly across the country."

"Speaking of driving…" I cleared my throat and turned to face him, leaning my back against the counter. "There's something very important that you and I need to discuss. I know we discussed getting you a car for your birthday, but –"

He beat me to the punch, cutting me off before I could say another word. "It's okay, Katherine, you don't have to say anything. I totally understand that our circumstances don't really give us the best opportunities for everything we want, and I wasn't exactly going to get my hopes up when I knew I would just be setting myself up for disappointment," he stated seriously, though his tone was kind – almost resigned. "It's completely fine; I don't need a car anyway."

I raised an eyebrow, feeling surprised at the sudden amount of maturity he was showing. Without a word I dug in my pocket for the key I had placed there hours ago, tossing it carelessly up in the air before letting it dangle from my finger. "Well, I'm glad to know you've grown as a person, but you seem to have left me at a disadvantage here. You're so dead set on not needing a car, then what am I going to do with these?"

It seemed that Isaac wasn't quite sure what to do. He stared blankly at the key, not comprehending what he was seeing, and leaned away from it as though it were some dangerous, unidentified object. But then his eyes widened and his gaze flashed to my face where I stared at him and waited for a response. "No. No way. Shut _up,_ are you _serious?_ " he quickly demanded, looking back and forth between the key and me. "If you're messing with me right now, I swear to _God –_ "

I shook the key, making it jingle. "Well why don't you just go outside and check for yourself?"

Isaac nearly tripped in his haste to get up from the table, the chair nearly toppling back to the floor as he snatched the key from my fingertips. He slipped across the floor in his socks, hooking his fingers around the doorframe to swing around the side.

"Come on, you," I grunted, lifting Luke in my arms to carry him outside with me. "Let's go see how he likes it."

"He sounded excited, mommy."

"He did, didn't he?" I questioned, just as I heard the front door slam open.

A delighted cheer came from Isaac's mouth just as we stepped outside, and he was staring at the truck with a mixture of awe and glee on his face. "Katherine, this is – this is –"

"It's a truck," I said amusedly, gently shoving him forward to go toward it. "It isn't exactly a Mercedes but it'll get you where you need to go, and you'll fit right in with everyone else here."

"It's awesome!" A wave of relief settled over me, and I shifted Luke in my arms as I followed Isaac through the yard. "I really wasn't expecting anything, and this – this is just –" And Isaac simply whipped around and tossed his arms around me in a tight hug, Luke squirming in between us. "Thank you so much," he said finally, voice muffled. "This is the best present in the world."

"I'm glad you like it," I said sincerely, grinning. "You deserve it, sweetheart." Then I pulled away form him and gave him a stern glance. "But we're going to have some ground rules, okay? No going places without letting me know where you are, always go the speed limit and wear your seatbelt, and you bet your ass you're going to have a curfew now -"

The smile on his face was so wide that I thought his cheeks would crack, and he simply waved away my words. "I know, I know, but – God, this is amazing!"

"I'm the best sister ever," I replied, rolling my eyes. "I know. This is just a hint to you that you have to give me a hell of a fantastic present when my birthday comes around. And Christmas."

In his excitement, he reached out and hugged me again. "I will drive to the store and get you anything you want, I swear!"

I laughed, gently shoving him away. "Go check out your new truck, then. But don't take too long; you still have to come finish your breakfast, and then we're going to Emily's later for the party." But he was barely paying attention to me anymore, already jogging his way over to the vehicle to explore it like he was a kid in the world's largest candy store. "Well," I mused to Luke as I headed back up to the house, "Looks like he loved the present, doesn't it?"

Luke giggled and nodded, tossing his arms around my neck. "I think today is going to be a good day, Mommy."

"You know, baby, I completely agree."

oOo

Absently listening to the conversations around him and with a heavy plate of delicious food on his lap that he casually nibbled on at various intervals, Isaac Perdue casually lounged on the comfortable though worn out sofa in the Uley living room. His new friends - Seth, Collin, and Brady – sat around him, either sprawled on the nearby armchairs or along the floor facing the TV.

It had been a night of wins, really, both with the presents, the food, and the pleasant company. A new car, various video games from the guys, new clothes from Emily and Kim, and some soccer equipment – hell, he hadn't even known that his sister had told Paul that he _liked_ soccer! Between the good food, many laughs, and the awesome gifts, Isaac was sure that this had to be one of the best birthday's he ever had.

Plus, the icing on the metaphorical cake – not the real one, which had yet to be cut – was the look on his sister's face.

Audrey Perdue, a woman that had been nicknamed the Ice Queen because of her ruthlessness in the courtroom, a woman who could some days come with her own personal storm-cloud, that had a tongue as sharp as a snake and could practically tear you apart with mere words, his guardian _,_ his caretaker _,_ his _sister_ … was giggling.

 _With a guy!_

Of course, Isaac was about five-thousand percent sure that Audrey was completely unaware of the goofy expression on her face, but he would be the _last_ person in the room to point out the fact that her smile was practically blinding.

From his spot on the sofa, Isaac had a perfect view into the cramped kitchen where his sister sat at the table chatting with Emily, Sue Clearwater, and Kim, a half empty plate of food in front of her. She brought a forkful of pasta salad up to her mouth just as Paul crouched beside her, moving in to swipe a bit of food with his fingers. Audrey smacked him away with her cast, but covered her mouth when she laughed at the scandalized expression on his face.

If anyone had ever told Isaac that his sister would actually feel comfortable around people like this – around a guy like Paul – then he would have had them committed to an insane asylum, because the Audrey he knew a year ago would have never even _thought_ about doing something like this – sitting around with people of both genders that she could actually call 'friends,' eating homemade food and just having a good time. Even though it was weird to witness, he was still ecstatic that his sister was adjusting to this weird new environment. Just because the circumstances of their move weren't the best didn't exactly mean that it wasn't a blessing in disguise.

"Aiden. _Aiden,_ " a hot hand gently shoved his shoulder, effectively drawing his attention away from his sister and back to his friends. He blinked and turned to see that Seth was giving him a strange look. "Dude, you're like a thousand miles away. What's on your mind?"

"Uh," Isaac glanced over at Audrey, watching as she let out a begrudging smile and replied to something that Paul was saying, both of them appearing happy and content just to have each other's company. Paul pulled up a chair next to her and nodded at her response, leaning forward with a grin. "Just thinking about… things."

Seth followed Isaac's gaze and nodded knowingly. "About your sister? She looks like she's having a good time."

"She is," he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's kind of why I can't stop staring. I've honestly never seen her so content before. It's been years since I've seen her smile like that."

Seth was silent, and he put down his plate of food and crossed his arms over his chest, stretching out his long legs across the floor. They both watched as Katherine – or at least, the person that Seth knew as Katherine – rolled her eyes and laughed with Kim and Emily, shoving Paul's shoulder. "Paul really likes her."

"And she likes him." He paused. "Even if she won't admit it out loud. I know my sister like the back of my hand. If she didn't like Paul, she would have found a way to make him leave her alone."

"Does she do that with everyone she dates?"

"Well according to her, she isn't even dating Paul," he replied, and they shared a knowing look, "but I think we both know that's bullshit. The thing is… well, Katherine has never dated. Like ever. She doesn't even – she avoids the opposite sex like it's a damn contest. The only men she ever really spoke to on a daily basis were me, Thomas, and her former boss – and even with her boss, it was always a 'say what you needed to say and get away as fast as possible' kind of thing. To see her in this environment, with so many incredibly intimidating people… suffice to say I'm just surprised she hasn't completely run for the hills yet."

Seth simply shrugged. "Maybe your sister sees something in Paul that she never saw in anyone else. This town has a way of making a person see things in a different light. Wouldn't be the first time it's happened and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last."

Isaac sighed. "Yeah, well, if the guy can make her laugh like that, I'm all for it."

"He really likes her, you know," he pointed out. "Like _really_ likes her."

"I know."

"Do you?" Seth lowered his voice, eyes flickering back and forth between Audrey, Isaac, and Paul. "Do you know how much? Because between you and me, I'm pretty sure that he's falling in love with her – if he hasn't already. If he hadn't fallen in love with her the first moment he saw her."

When Isaac turned back to his sister and Paul, he could see it. The way that Paul looked at her with such relief every time their eyes met, the way he studied her and hovered at her side ready to jump up at the first sign that she needed something, the way that he doted on her every word and smiled whenever he saw her laugh… Paul was definitely in love with his sister. "Well, I'll be damned," he murmured. "He really is in love with her, isn't he?" Before he could stop himself, he added under his breath, "More fool him, I guess."

By this time, the two youngest boys in the pack had turned their attention to the conversation. "What do you mean?" asked Brady, looking up from his spot on the floor as the song on the stereo changed to some upbeat pop song.

Isaac hesitated, awkwardly shifting in his spot and picking at a piece of food on his plate. "Like I said before, my sister doesn't date. She doesn't do the whole relationship thing."

"I've been wondering about that," Seth leaned forward eagerly. "Is there any particular reason for her not dating? I mean your sister is young, fairly pretty – her personality is a bit –"

"Bitchy?" Isaac offered. "It's okay, you can say it. Katherine is so standoffish that she could probably make milk spoil with just a glare."

Collin snorted.

"But seriously, man," Seth continued seriously. "Does she have a reason for not dating? Or is it just a thing that she does?"

Isaac looked down at his plate of food and placed it on the coffee table, having suddenly lost his appetite. "She has her reasons," he replied simply. "They're her business and she would probably tear me apart if I said anything…" He paused then went on quickly, voice lowering, "All I can say is that she doesn't like to talk about it and that it has something to do with Thomas."

The boys went silent. Seth exchanged a look with Collin and Brady and turned back to Isaac, quietly saying in the most apologetic tone he could, "Paul told us that he knows that Thomas's father died a few years ago. Is that why? Did… is she still in love with him and it's stopping her from –"

Isaac's head whipped up, and he was sure that the intensity made him appear more like his sister than he intended. "No. It's – it isn't that at all. Thomas's father – she – Katherine was never –" he cut himself off, rubbing a hand over his face, brows scrunching in what felt like physical pain. He sucked in a breath and told them, "Yes, it has to do with him, but not because she's still hung up on him. She never loved him, ever; never wanted to be with him, never wanted –" he swallowed. "I shouldn't have even told you any of this. It –" he shook his head, tiredly running a hand through his hair. "Katherine was hurt. Badly. Her reasons for not dating are her own, and trust me, if you knew the truth… you would understand."

From the look on his friends' faces, he knew that they probably had a few ideas on what happened with Audrey, but he wouldn't be the one to confirm them. Like he had said before, he had already said too much – much more than he should have, or even would have if it were a few months ago. It was just so easy around his new friends – they were so open and honest that he felt as though he could tell them anything.

But he couldn't. Even he knew that.

"We didn't mean to pry," Brady said after a moment. "We want Paul to be happy just as much as you want your sister to be happy. He's changed a lot ever since he met her, like he's become a completely different person."

"She's changed, too," Isaac added. "She's so different from the person who basically raised me. Softer, somehow. Almost like she's…" His voice trailed off as he turned to the kitchen to glance at his sister once more, turning just in time to catch the sideways glance she gave Paul as he turned away to say something to Jared. "Almost like she's falling in love with him, too. I just don't want her to get hurt again. She's been through so much awful shit in her life that… I don't want her to be hurt again."

Seth had to have seen where his gaze was going because he said, "Paul wouldn't hurt her. At least, he wouldn't hurt her on purpose. Honestly, she could do a lot worse. Paul would probably be the best boyfriend and best friend she's ever had, if she gave him a chance."

Isaac nodded absently. "I know he wouldn't hurt her. It's just a hard mindset to get out of because Katherine spent so much of her life making sure that Thomas and I were fed and happy, but… little does she know that I spent most of my life trying to make sure that her struggles weren't for nothing. It's difficult to not worry about her."

Brady cocked his head to the side. "You love your sister and have a close relationship with her. It's not bad that you want to look out for her and it would be weird if you _didn't_ worry about her."

Before Isaac could reply to Brady's statement, Emily leaned into the room. "Come on, boys," she said cheerfully. "Time to cut the cake!"

It was a good thing, he supposed, that he wasn't able to speak. How could he find the words to explain why he worried about his sister as much as he did? How could he explain to his friends that he wouldn't have had an education or a decent childhood, or a great mother figure if it weren't for his sister? How could he tell them that he probably wouldn't be talking to each other if it weren't for her? The words couldn't be strung together to explain just how much he owed her – how much he understood her hesitance when speaking about a relationship with Paul.

They would never understand. They would probably never know, either, since he doubted that Audrey would ever tell them what happened to her – how she ended up pregnant at sixteen with a baby she didn't intend to have, how she was forced to drop out of high school, take care of two kids, apply for a GED, and struggled her way to the top in an attempt to survive and conquer her own personal demons. They would never understand.

But Isaac did. He understood. He knew. He was there; he had experienced it with her. His sister had given up so much over the years – more than she actually had to, if he was being honest with himself – giving up her own happiness and her own money, skipping meals if it meant that he and Luke could get a little extra, giving up a pillow if he asked even if she only had one to begin with… No, they would probably never know those little details. Hell, he was sure that his sister thought that even _he_ didn't remember those little, irrelevant things, but he did.

And deep down, Isaac fully believed that was the root of Audrey's problem. She spent so much of her life giving things up, mentally being an adult when she was physically only a child. His sister was, ultimately, having trouble realizing that she wouldn't have to give up Paul. She was scared – terrified, even – to get too close because she believed, in the end, she would lose him. And really, growing to care for someone and losing them was probably more frightful to her than a lunatic chasing them across the country.

It was a flurry of excitement as Isaac was dragged to the kitchen and all but pushed into the seat next to his sister, exhausted and not really in the mood to continue the party. A huge, homemade chocolate cake piled with icing was shoved in front of his face; in blue icing were the words, 'Happy Birthday, Aiden!' He found the energy to smile at it, glancing over at his sister.

Audrey was staring at him with a bright smile, but it fell when she saw the expression on his face. In the excitement and noise he barely heard her speak, but could read the words on her lips as she placed a gentle hand on his back, "Are you okay?"

In response, he nodded, straining to brighten his expression. "I'm fine," he mouthed back. It didn't look like she believed him in the slightest. "Seriously."

She pursed her lips but gave a short nod of her head. Both of them looked up when Emily clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. "Alright, everyone! Let's get this show on the road."

After a rousing (and amusing) rendition of the Happy Birthday song that consisted almost entirely of deep voices, somebody stated, "Time to blow out the candles and make a wish."

Isaac stared down at the candles flickering on the cake and thought about what he wanted his wish to be – he could wish for anything, anything in the world, but… with a glance at his sister (who simply raised an eyebrow at him from where she sat with a sleepy Luke on her lap) and to his new friends (who were watching him expectantly), he knew that there was only one thing that he truly wanted to wish for.

He leaned forward, sucked in a breath, and blew out the candles.

oOo

From where he leaned against the doorframe, Paul Lahote watched his imprint interact with his pack and her family, almost completely lost in thought. He was glad that she wasn't paying attention because he was sure she would have told him off for staring, but he couldn't help himself. It was as if it was physically impossible for him to tear his eyes away – not that he wanted to in the first place.

As if she finally felt his stare, she turned to face him, eyes glinting when their gazes met. Her lips twitched upward into a smile, but her attention was soon taken away once more by her brother, who tugged on her sleeve to pass over a slice of cake.

"I know what you're thinking, and it's a bad idea."

Paul barely glanced at Jared as the other man appeared at his shoulder, both of them studying the many people that were crammed into the room. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yeah, you do," Jared replied, shoving Paul's shoulder. "You want to tell her. I can read it all over your face."

"So?"

" _So,_ " Jared scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, "spilling the beans at her brother's birthday party isn't exactly a smart idea, Paul."

"I wasn't going to tell her _tonight_ ," Paul shot back sternly, finally turning to glare at his friend. Then, softer, he added, "No matter how much I want to."

Jared nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Have you, uh, made any progress in that field? Hinted at it or implied that the two of you needed to sit down and have a serious conversation sometime soon?"

"She knows I'm hiding something important," Paul answered after a moment. "But I haven't really given any hints about what it is. It's not as if I can just go, 'hey, I have this gigantic, furry problem –'"

Jared snorted. "She'll probably think that it means you have a misbehaving dog."

They both laughed, but the sound was halfhearted. "She wouldn't be that far off in her guess," Paul said. "But I'm working on it. I know it isn't going to end well, so I'm just trying to figure out a way to make it as painless as possible."

Jared shrugged one of his shoulders, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Might as well rip it off like a Band-Aid. Are you going to tell her everything at once or spread it out?"

"I don't know."

"Well do you think she's going to react worse to the imprint or to the wolf thing?"

"I don't _know,_ Jared. I think she'll hate the imprint more than anything, but it's a damn tossup," he said. "Once I tell her about the wolf, I doubt she'll even let me have the chance to tell her anything else. But then again, when I think I have her all figured out, she surprises me again."

"Well maybe you should try the –"

"Cake?" Both boys jumped, their attention having been on each other and not having seen the subject of their conversation as she approached with a plate of cake in each hand for them. She raised an eyebrow when they jumped, and shook the plates in their direction. "Wow, jumpy much?" she stated as they each took a plate, murmuring their thanks. "What were you guys talking about that had you so occupied?"

The two men exchanged a look. "Nothing," they chimed together.

Her eyebrows shot up even further. "Okay…" she said slowly, giving them both a strange though slightly suspicious look. "Whatever you say."

When she had taken her seat at the table again and confusedly sent them a glance before she turned to speak to Emily, Paul sighed. "I'm completely fucked, aren't I?"

Jared's response was immediate and matter-of-fact. "Oh, without a doubt."

oOo

The night air was cool and a breeze rustled the wind chimes hanging from the roof of the porch outside the Uley home. The sound of happy chatter, laughter, and upbeat music seeped through the cracks in the closed windows and around the doorframe as I slipped outside during the chaos. It wasn't that I wasn't enjoying myself – quite the contrary, actually; I just felt absolutely exhausted, like I could fall asleep on my feet without a care in the world.

The door behind me opened and shut almost immediately after I leaned against the porch railing. I didn't have to glance around to conclude that the heavy steps were from Paul, knowing that he probably saw me when I walked out. "Not enjoying the celebrations?" he asked when he settled into the spot next to me, nudging my shoulder with his own.

"No, that's not it," I replied with a sigh. "Just tired, I guess. It's been a pretty hectic day and I'm absolutely exhausted." My gaze flickered in his direction. "I really appreciate what you all did for Aiden today. I know he enjoyed himself, and we haven't ever really done anything like this before."

Paul frowned. "He's never had a party before?"

"It's not that, it's just -" I chewed on my lip, giving a shake of my head. "There was a time when I could barely afford to get him a present let alone have a party. Later on when we were financially stable, we would go out and do things; I would take he and his friends to got play laser tag, or bowling, or we'd… rent out an arcade or something. Parties at the house never really happened."

"Well now they can," he said nonchalantly. "Emily wasn't lying when she said you guys are basically family, you know. We would do the same for any one of us."

"And I appreciate every bit of it. Today was just… almost perfect, really," I mused, looking up at the various stars above our heads. Seeing the bright lights in the sky was still a strange experience, having spent so long in cities where the stars were drowned out by the cityscape. "So much better than I thought it would be."

"Almost perfect?" he asked. "What would have made it fully perfect?"

My fingers curled around the porch railing. "My dad," I eventually admitted, looking up at him from under my eyelashes and shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I just wish that he were here to see the person that Aiden has become. I know that he would be as proud as I am."

Paul was quiet for several moments. "You don't really talk about your parents," he stated simply. "What was he like? Your dad, I mean? And your mom?"

I blew out a heavy breath that I hadn't realized that I had been holding. "My dad was…" Suddenly I laughed, and Paul gave me a strange look. "He was a lot like you, actually," I stated in amazement, smiling fondly at the memory of my biological father. "Stubborn as hell, obstinate, pig-headed – man, he drove me absolutely _crazy_ sometimes –"

"Thanks," Paul interrupted sarcastically.

" – but he had a kind heart," I continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Would give you the shirt off of his back if you asked for it, and would throw in his shoes for good measure. He was practically a damn saint, always going out of his way to do good things. Barely had a spare moment for himself but he always found the time to help others, even if it meant pushing aside something else."

"Not really traits that his daughter inherited," Paul teased.

"You're hilarious, Lahote." I rolled my eyes, but smiled and nudged his shoulder with my own. "My dad was one of the only men in the world that had never let me down, but then he… he died. Car accident with a bunch of drunk teenagers – stupid, _stupid_ people who decided to get behind the wheel and he had to pay the ultimate price for somebody else's mistake."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, and I felt the comforting brush of his fingertips over my arm. "I can't imagine how that must feel."

"I was only eleven when it happened, so I don't really remember it – or him, really – as well as I want," I admitted. "But I do know that he was a great man. And my mom… well," I gave him a wry smile, "she won't be winning any 'mother of the year' awards any time soon." Paul didn't speak, so I continued, "I don't really blame her, though. She was never quite the same after my dad died; they had been together since high school and she loved him with all her heart. At least, that was until she met –"

I cut myself off, squeezing my lips together as my cheeks heated. _Oh, Audrey, what the hell are you doing? Just blurt out your whole life story right there, would you? Perfect, just perfect! Why not go the extra mile and tell him everything?_

"When she met…" Paul repeated open-endedly, expectant.

I ran a hand through my hair and refused to meet the gaze that I could feel burning a hole in the side of my head. "My step-dad."

The expression on Paul's face clearly said that he expected me to elaborate, but I didn't. But… what would really be the harm? I had been keeping this from Paul for so long, wasn't it time to finally do as I had wanted all along and tell him the truth? I owed him that much, after everything he had done for me. However, I couldn't help but wonder… would he still care after he knew?

Obviously I couldn't tell him everything, but there were some things I _could_ tell him. Things that would explain my behavior, my reasons behind not wanting a relationship of any kind, my hesitance toward all things male… even my reasons for moving away before our 'almost kiss' that ended in a broken wrist. But the truth was a scary thing, wasn't it? Would he run? Would he care? I was sure that he would but there was still that tiny voice in the back of my mind saying, 'He won't want anything to do with you after he knows – this beautiful, wonderful man you care about so much more than you should.'

In that moment I realized I did want to tell him. More than anything, I wanted to just blurt it out and tell him everything that I was thinking, everything that I was feeling, and everything that I had been hiding for so long. I knew, just knew that he would somehow understand; if he knew, he would immediately to make it better even though we both would know that he couldn't do anything to change the past, but it still would have meant the world that he would try. Paul – this man who was so imperfect in such a perfect way… he understood. I didn't know how, but he did, and I hated it and loved it at the same time because I knew I couldn't hide it any longer.

Though when I turned completely in my spot to face him, opening my mouth and fully ready to tell him the truth, he spoke first. "What's the key for?" he nodded to where my hands were fiddling with the brass key around my neck; I hadn't even realized that I had reached for it. "I never see you without it and it seems like you're almost always fiddling with it when you get lost in thought."

"I –" I coughed, looking down at the metal object that hung loosely in my palm. "It's stupid, really. I guess you could say that it's just a security blanket. A piece of memorabilia from my past that I never had the heart to get rid of."

His brow scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean?"

There were two ways that I could go with this: I could shove his statements aside and make some bullshit story that would explain away the key, or I could tell him the truth. My decision was made for me almost immediately, because not only did I want to tell him, I was tired of hiding who I was and the things that I had been through. Paul deserved to know, if only to understand why I was the way that I was and why I didn't kiss him that night on the pier and why I couldn't be in a relationship with him. He deserved to know… and maybe this wasn't the right time to tell him, but if I didn't do it right then, I knew I would just chicken out and never do it. So I did.

"Paul," I finally said as he patiently waited for a response, and I nervously shifted in my spot. "There's something that you and I need to talk about."

"Katherine, you don't have to tell me anything you aren't ready for me to know," he replied gently, placing his hand over one of mine where it rested on the railing. The feeling made me feel like I was suffocating, but I didn't let it show.

"No," I found myself saying with assurance. "You need to know. It's time. I'm tired of hiding it and I think you deserve to know why –"

A crash came from somewhere inside the house along with several shouts of excitement, heavy laughter, and Sam's voice crying out in surprise, " _Emily!_ "

Paul and I exchanged a glance and rushed into the house without a second thought. The kitchen was a flurry of movement and excitement, with everyone crowded around Emily, who was clutching her stomach and squinting in obvious discomfort. I knew immediately what had happened because I recognized the look on her face, but Paul, who had no idea what was going on because he had probably never witnessed something like this, demanded, "What's wrong? What's going on?"

Emily looked up with wide eyes filled with awe and surprise, and answered, "I think I just went into labor."

oOo

 _Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers - not too happy with this chapter and I had to rewrite it about four different times before I came to something that I was satisfied with, so hopefully this turned out well. Thank you to all of you for giving me a well-needed distraction. Also, l_ _ast chance to vote on the poll if you haven't._

 _Important Notice: Reasons for why I'm saying this are at the top Author's Note, but please; i_ _f you are feeling depressed, suicidal, or think you might hurt yourself, please get help. I know it may not seem like it at times, but there are people out there who love you and want to help. You've already come so far to get to where you are today, so please don't give up hope. You are not alone._

 _Next time: the miracle of life, beauty sleep, and terrible secrets finally revealed in an unintended way._


	17. A Wolf in the Metaphorical Hen House

_Thank you to each and every person who showed their support for the issues and delays that I mentioned in the last chapter. It's... well. It's been rough. It pains me to admit that my friends and I are struggling with moving forward, so it's taken a lot of time for us to go back to our everyday lives and get back on our old schedules again._ _It's hard for each of us to move on because Daniel was such a big part of who we were and the things that we did - believe it or not, he was the first one to inspire me to start writing! - and I just want you all to know that while we're having trouble with this devastating incident, we are all gradually moving forward at our own pace. We know that even if Daniel was suffering and had demons that he felt he couldn't tell us about, he would not want us to suffer and pine over him forever, so we are steadily attempting to move on and go back to our lives with positive attitudes and a new outlook, eager to live life to the fullest._

 _As always, enjoy and please leave a review with what you want to see happen next. Also, apologies for not replying to basically any reviews recently. Like I said, things have been hectic. I'm hoping that things will get back on track now that I'm permanently back at college, but we'll see how things go._

 _ **TRIGGER WARNING:** Heavy topics in this chapter dealing with and implying rape, sexual abuse, and child neglect._

oOo

Chapter 17:

" _A baby is God's opinion that the world should go on." – Carl Sandburg_

"I can't believe it's already four in the morning and she hasn't popped out that brat yet."

After everyone managed to get his or her bearings at the Uley house – with help from both Sue (who immediately went into nursing mode) and myself (who was the only other person in the group that had actually been through labor before) – each person in the house climbed into their vehicles and made their way to the hospital, most of them at speeds which weren't exactly legal. "Uh," I had said to Paul while sitting in the passenger seat of his vehicle, watching Sam's truck speed ahead of us, "should he really be going that fast?"

"Trust me when I tell you, Sam is probably freaking out right now so we have to just let him do what he wants and... hope for the best, I guess."

Which was literally the understatement of the century, I soon came to realize, because the poor man paced back and forth in front of the doors to the maternity ward like a caged animal until one of the doctors took pity on him and brought him to the back to see his wife.

But now, as it usually was when babies entered the world, it was time to sit back and wait until we received news, and we had already been lounging around the waiting room for several hours. The group had slowly dissipated over the waiting period. The adults had sent Seth, Collin, Brady, and Isaac back to their various homes because they still had school the next day. Paul and Jared had disappeared over ten minutes ago, sent in search of some hot coffee to keep the rest of us awake, and the other boys were snoozing in the chairs – or in Embry's case, on the floor with half of his body buried under a coffee table covered in magazines.

I sat next to Kim on one of the uncomfortably fake leather couches, amusedly listening to Leah's antics as she reclined on the floor next to a snoring Embry. Kim and I exchanged tired glances, and we both shook our heads as Sue spoke, reminding her daughter, "This is a _good_ thing, Leah."

My eyes met Leah's and I resisted the urge to smirk at the simpering look on her face. "I never said it _wasn't_ a good thing, mother," she drawled lazily. "It's just, you know, I would have been more than happy to come and fawn over the baby during normal daylight hours. A girl has to have her beauty sleep."

Before I could answer, Quil softly called out from his spot across the room, a sleeping Claire in his lap, "Beauty sleep, my ass. Obviously you need to try and find another beauty routine because the beauty sleep bullshit isn't working out too well for you."

Leah scowled. "Fuck off, Ateara."

I rolled my eyes at both of them, shifting a knocked out Luke in my arms. He mumbled something under his breath, small fist tightening on my shirt. Stroking back a bit of his hair, I turned to Kim, "I don't remember if Emily told me – do they know what the baby's gender is going to be?"

She shook her head. "Nope, Emily wanted to wait. I know Sam wants a boy, but I think she's hoping for a girl. Either way, I know they'll be happy as long as the baby is healthy. At this point, I'm sure they're just ready for the little one to be here. And I know that Emily is probably exhausted by now."

"I wouldn't doubt it," I said. "It takes a lot out of you."

"Was it painful?" There was a pause. "Well, I know it was painful, but on a scale of like one to ten -"

I stared at Quil, while Leah chuckled. "I pushed a human being out of my vagina," I deadpanned. Beside me, Kim snorted, covering her mouth with her hands as she glanced at me. "It was like 5000 on a scale of one to ten. Try pushing a baby out of your penis and then we'll talk."

He winced, looking suddenly uncomfortable, and automatically crossed his legs.

" _Honestly,_ " replied Sue in exasperation, shaking her head at all of us from where she stood by the door.

"It all turns out okay, though," I added, almost as an afterthought to Kim. "It's like once you hold your child in your arms… the thought of all the pain just disappears. I guess it's just the universe's way of giving us the strength to have more eventually."

"Do you ever think you'll have more?" Kim questioned curiously, cocking her head to the side. "Another kid?"

I tensed, gaze fixed on a small crack on the far wall. "No."

Her brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"Because I –"

The doors to the waiting room swung open and I sagged in relief as Paul and Jared stepped into the room, two trays of steaming cups in their hands. "We got some of the stuff from the cafeteria," stated Jared as he and Paul passed the drinks around the room. "It's not good, but it's better than the crap they have up here."

Paul had approached me with a single cup of coffee in his hands, and he gestured at Luke in my arms. "Do you want me to take him from you so you have a free hand?" he asked, nodding toward the wrist that was still confined in a cast.

After only a moment of hesitation, I passed over Luke and took the coffee from Paul's hands. Despite the fact that Paul wasn't exactly the most father-like person, he looked… well, about five times more attractive with a kid in his arms. It was odd to see such a large person holding such a small child, but he looked right at home holding Luke with one arm. The snoozing boy automatically wrapped both of his arms around Paul's neck, not waking as Paul settled on the floor next to my legs.

I sipped at my coffee, resisting the urge to frown down at the weak liquid. I swirled the coffee in the cup and turned, noticing that Kim's eyes were focused on me. "What?" I asked.

After a moment, she simply shook her head. "Nothing. Not important."

"Any news?" Jared asked aloud to no one in particular, sitting on the arm of the couch next to his wife.

"None," replied Sue. "These things take time, though. We just have to be patient."

Leah grumbled something unintelligible under her breath, but Paul seemed to understand it because he gently kicked her outstretched leg. "Be nice, hag."

I flicked his ear. " _You_ need to be nice, too."

"Only Emily would take this long in labor – she knows the anticipation is probably killing us, so I know she's doing this on purpose just to piss us all off," Leah stated. Then she turned her eyes to me. "How long were you in labor?"

I shrugged one of my shoulders and took another sip of the coffee. "The actual labor process was about… forty-five minutes?" I said thoughtfully.

There were raised eyebrows all around, but Sue nodded knowingly. "You had a C-section, then?"

I nodded. "Exactly. And Emily is having a natural birth, which sometimes takes a lot longer. With a Caesarian-section, it's just a few choice snips to the abdomen and you're out of there as soon as possible."

"Isn't that more dangerous for the baby, though?" Leah asked.

My cheeks heated slightly. "Yeah, but, uh –" I cleared my throat, and Paul shifted in front of me. "There were a few complications during my pregnancy, so I couldn't have a natural birth."

Paul turned his head to ask a question but he never got the chance. The double doors on the opposite side of the room where nurses and orderlies had been running in and out of for the last few hours suddenly swung open, revealing a beaming and slightly red-faced Sam Uley. We all leaned forward eagerly to hear news from him, and waited –

"It's a boy."

oOo

After almost five hours of apparent screaming and threats on her husband's life, Emily Uley gave birth to a bouncing baby boy. Later, Emily would confide that both she and Sam had cried – a fact that Sam would probably deny until he was blue in the face. Not that I would make fun of him for it, because I completely understood.

The next hour or so happened as it always does when you've spent hours waiting for a baby – we went in small groups to go and visit an exhausted and slightly sweaty Emily as she gazed down at the beautiful baby in her arms, and we spent several moments fawning over the newborn with his head of thick black hair and adorably chubby cheeks.

"Oh, Emily," Sue cooed as Emily passed her the baby. She ran a finger down the child's cheek, smiling. "He's so handsome."

"He has your nose," Kim noted, and laughed when the baby reflexively gripped her finger in his tiny hand.

"What name did you decide on?" I asked curiously, peeking over Sue's shoulder.

Emily sent a tired glance over at her husband, who lovingly kissed the top of her head. "We decided on a traditional name – Takoda. It means 'friend to everyone.' We thought it would be fitting," she explained, "since –"

"Since everyone on the rez is going to fall in love with him the moment they see him," Sue said knowingly, chuckling. "Katherine, do you want to hold him?"

"Oh, sure," I said slowly, gently taking the baby from Sue's arm, making soothing noises at him when he grumbled at being jostled. He quieted almost immediately, yawning slightly before falling right back asleep. "He really is adorable, Emily," I stated sincerely, peering down at the bundle in the soft blue blanket. "Man, it's been years since I've held a baby; but I guess it's just like riding a bike. You never really..."

And then… it was like I wasn't there at all. Instead of the little baby that was the spitting image of Sam Uley – but had Emily's nose – I was now the one in the hospital bed, tiredly smiling down on another baby. It was a girl. Her hair was thick but lighter than Takoda's, almost like it didn't know what shade it was supposed to be so it was streaked through with dark browns. She had dimples on each of her chubby cheeks and beautiful skin that was the color of caramel.

Then she opened her eyes – they were dark and deep and scarily familiar, and they effectively brought me out of my thoughts and back to reality with the help of Sue, who had placed a hand on my arm. "Katherine? Are you okay? You look a little pale."

I looked up to see that everyone was staring at me. I felt my skin burn with embarrassment and quickly passed the baby back to Emily, forcing a smile on my face. "Fine. Just a bit out of it, I guess. Tired."

Paul, who had been standing against the far wall with Jared and watching the scene with curious eyes, stepped forward with Luke still asleep in his arms. "Want me to take the two of you home?"

"If you don't mind," I agreed quietly, face straining under the effort of keeping a false smile. I turned back to Sam and Emily, who were watching the exchange in confusion. "Guys, congratulations. He's absolutely beautiful."

Emily put Takoda in Sam's arms and reached out to me, obviously expecting a hug. When I moved forward, she placed her arms around me and I heard her soft voice in my ear. "Are you sure you're alright?"

I cleared my throat and nodded into her shoulder, cheerfully saying, "Never better."

oOo

There was no sound coming from the small sanctuary that was my government-given home. The only light that burst forth from the house was that of the light above the porch that flickered as we approached. With Luke clutched almost protectively in one of his veiny arms, Paul patiently waited beside me as I dug for my key in my purse. Despite the fact that I had probably done this simple task hundreds of times, my hands still shook as I shoved the key toward the lock, missing the hole not once, but twice.

Paul could sense my nervousness and I could feel his questioning gaze burning a hole in the side of my skull, but I ignored it as I flipped on the light switch for the front room. Stopping only momentarily to toss my purse on the kitchen table, I gestured for Paul to pass Luke into my own arms. "I'm going to go and put him to bed, so make yourself at home. I shouldn't be long."

"Take your time."

Luke mumbled in discontent at being jostled, yawning as he passed from Paul's comfortingly warm grip to my own. "Mommy," he murmured softly, automatically reaching out to take a grip of my hair.

"Shhh," I hushed him, kissing his temple when his face fell into the crook of my neck. I gently kicked open his bedroom door with my foot, humming softly under my breath. "Mommy just has to put you in your pajamas and then you can go right back to sleep and have a bunch of good dreams, okay?"

"Mmm…"

It didn't take long to get him dressed for bed since he was nearly asleep standing up and easily let me slip clean clothes over his outstretched limbs. He blinked up at me blearily when I tucked him into bed with Mr. Hoppy, but before I could move away, he reached out and sleepily grabbed my hand. "I love you, mommy."

Pushing back a bit of his hair, I leaned forward and placed a kiss on his forehead. "I love you, too. So much."

He was already asleep so I was sure he didn't hear my words, and I gently slipped out the room, leaving a small crack in the door like I always did when I tucked him into bed at night. I paused at Isaac's bedroom door, slowly poking my head inside to make sure that he was asleep and rolling my eyes when I saw that he had kicked the blankets halfway off of his bed and was stretched in several directions. I stepped inside the room, dodging books and magazines and shoes to make my way to the bed. Pulling the blanket off of the ground, I tossed it over his sleeping form, softly planting a kiss on the top of his head. He grumbled something under his breath, but didn't wake.

By the time I made my way downstairs, Paul was lounging on the living room sofa, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and obviously waiting for me to return. He sat up when he heard my footsteps on the stairs. "They're asleep?"

"Both practically knocked out," I answered, collapsing tiredly on the empty spot next to him. "It's been a long day so I'm sure they were both exhausted, not unlike myself. Coffee only does so much to keep you awake when you've been up almost twenty-four hours, you know?" I eyed him. "Honestly, I don't know how you're wide awake right now."

"I'm used to staying up at random hours whenever I do my work for the council," he explained. "And I was... well, I was kind of hoping we could finish our interrupted conversation from before Emily went into labor."

I was quiet for a long time, twiddling my thumbs and trying to organize my thoughts in a way that would give me the ability to explain what I was feeling. Was there a good way to explain it? Probably not, but I was in too far to back out now. After staying silent for several minutes trying to figure out what I wanted to say, I started with, "It's hard for me to explain this…" I said slowly, wrapping my arms around myself self-consciously. "I'm afraid that if I finally tell you that you won't want anything to do with me anymore."

His brow furrowed before he reached out to thread our fingers together. "Katherine, this may come as a shock to you but like it or not, I'm kind of in this for the long run. Nothing you say will change how I feel and nothing you say will make me want to stop being around you."

I stared down at our entwined hands, watching as his thumb traced over my own palm. We were so... _different;_ side by side, it was like... like we didn't belong near each other. His palms were warm and rough, filled with callouses made from years of hard work; my hands were smooth, pale, and slender, almost childlike in his own. For half a second, I actually considered backing out - just giving some horrible bullshitted excuse and shoved him out the door, ready to get rid of him once and for all, but then... something stopped me.

As I curled my fingers through his own I realized that just because we were different didn't necessarily make us bad for each other. Just because we had different backgrounds or experiences didn't mean that we couldn't just... _be._ That we couldn't be two people happy to be around each other. That we couldn't just be happy the way that we were without having to make things complicated. But... to make things uncomplicated, you had to be honest, right?

In the end, it was this thought process that won me over - I had to be honest with him for things to stop being complicated. Because they could be simple. They could be easy. I just had to be _honest._ With only half a moment of hesitation, I pulled my hand away from his and pushed aside my hair, turning so my back was to him. "Do you mind unclipping my necklace for me, please?"

He did, wordlessly, and the touch of his fingers at the back of my neck sent a chill up my spine.

I let the necklace fall into my hand and dangled it in the air between us. "When you asked me about this key," I started softly, both of our gazes focused on the dangling chain, "I told you that it was just a stupid piece of memorabilia, but that isn't necessarily true. This key is basically a reminder to me of where I've been and where I still have left to go. It reminds me of... of the things I've given up over the years. And the things that I've gained."

He frowned. "I don't understand."

"I wouldn't expect you to," I shrugged, tossing the little bronze charm into the air. "It's just a stupid, busted key right? But believe it or not, this key was actually the first key I received to my very first apartment. I made a copy of it to give to the landlord and kept the original because I was… kind of attached, really." I chuckled. "It was a, uh, pretty terrible place – a disgusting, two-room apartment in the worst part of town where the water was always slightly brown, there were cracks in the walls and ceiling, roaches _everywhere_ , and I'm 95% sure that the people next door were dealing drugs."

"You actually lived in a place like that?" Paul tried his hardest not to look disgusted, but ultimately failed. He cleared his throat. "But you're so… refined."

"Well, I was only seventeen at the time," I pointed out, ignoring his raised eyebrows. "Before that, I was… well, we lived in a halfway house for a few months. I was pregnant, a high school dropout, and couldn't really afford anything, let alone a nice apartment. There weren't very many places that we could go, but eventually I got back on my feet. Obviously."

"You left home, then?" he clarified. "That's what I've gathered so far. You just took off with Aiden? Why would you just leave your family like that? Was it just because you were pregnant? Did they not... accept it?"

This is where the story started to get tricky – or at least, difficult to explain. "If I'm going to finish this story, I'm going to need you to not interrupt me while I talk from this point on. This is hard enough as it is and I don't want you to keep interjecting questions because if you do, I -" I shook my head. "I might not be able to finish."

He raised his hands defensively, leaning back in his seat but turning his whole body in my direction. He looked intrigued, and I vaguely wondered if he would be as interested if he actually had any clue as to what this conversation entailed. "I'll keep my mouth shut, then."

"Okay." I took a deep breath, paused a moment, then continued, "Things changed when my mom got remarried. I didn't like my step-dad from the moment she introduced us. There was something off about him that made me uncomfortable, but… she didn't care. She was just so _love-struck_ , blinded by her feelings for –" my breath hitched in my throat, eyes feeling itchy. I rubbed at them angrily, not wanting to cry in front of Paul. "My opinion didn't matter to her, so they were married when I was fourteen. He was basically the reason that I left, eventually..."

My fingers curled around the key, thumb tracing over the five words engraved in the back. "It was fine for the first six months or so. But then he just… started looking at me strangely. I would catch him watching me when no one was looking, and he would always sit next to me at dinner or find an excuse to ruffle my hair or hug me. And one night, he… he came into my bedroom –"

My lower lip trembled and Paul buried his face in his hands. This was it, then. He knew; came to his own conclusions. After all, it didn't take a genius to figure out where this story was going. " _Jesus Christ,_ Katherine," I heard him mumble; his whole body seemed to shiver even though it wasn't very cold in the room. "Please tell me you aren't saying what I think you're saying."

I choked out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a laugh, tears flowing freely now but I couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. "I told my mom about it the next day but she didn't believe me, and I couldn't do anything about it because he… he threatened to hurt Aiden if I didn't let him. I didn't have any _proof_ , and I was completely convinced that no one would believe me anyway –" I choked, bringing my legs up to my chest like a scolded child. "I hated myself, was completely disgusted with myself, and nearly failed out of school – then about a year later, a bit after I turned sixteen, I found out that I was pregnant."

Before I could say anything else, Paul got to his feet, his movements jerky and robotic. The air around the sofa suddenly seemed cold when he moved away, stopping near the window with his hands clutching the windowsill. A shudder went up his back, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip he had on the wood.

"The only thing I could think was, 'yes, now no one can tell me I'm lying, I have proof of what that bastard did to me.' And that night I packed a bag for myself and for Aiden, and went to the nearest police station." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, curling up against the side of the couch. "I had to drop out of school and work two jobs, but I managed to apply for emancipation while I was at the halfway house, and I gained custody of Aiden. Not long after that I moved into my own apartment and my step dad was charged with child abuse, rape, and sexual assault, while my mother was charged with child neglect. She got out of prison after a year, but he... he died in a gang fight while in jail."

I swallowed, forcing myself to choke out the rest of the story. Paul hadn't moved. "I went into labor in June with every intention of giving the baby up for adoption, but when the time came to give him up… I couldn't. I just saw him and instantly loved him unconditionally, despite how he was brought into the world," I sniffled, but smiled fondly at the thought of the small boy sleeping peacefully in the upstairs bedroom. "I ended up receiving my GED, still working two jobs just to take care of them and to put myself through school at –" I swallowed, blinking, "NYU."

There was a tense beat of silence that seemed to permeate the air. When Paul finally spoke, his voice was soft, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of pure fury that didn't escape my notice. "Is that all?"

"No." My voice was tiny and childlike, clogged and nasally from crying. "There was a complication when I had Thomas," I admitted with a sniffle, pushing a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "My doctor said a bunch of medical terms about something being wrong with my womb, but the basic conclusion was that... I won't ever be able to have any more children." By that time I was crying, unable to stop myself and barely able to get the words out. "Don't you understand? This is why I can't be with you, Paul. Not because I don't want to, but because I physically _can't._ You say that you want something real - maybe even a family, eventually... but _I can't give that to you_."

 _Crack!_

The splintering, heart-stopping sound of cracking wood burst throughout the room, making me jump half a foot in the air in surprise. Part of the windowsill had crumpled to the floor, having cracked under Paul's fingertips. I gaped in shock. His entire body seemed to shiver, back ramrod straight while the windowsill continued to fall to the floor at his feet in a way that should have been completely impossible.

When he finally spoke, he did so without moving, and his voice was gruff and so dangerously low that it scared me. "I need to leave," he said, almost entirely to himself.

"You – what?"

Then he was moving, much faster than should have been possible, but my brain was still too busy trying to comprehend the fact that he had _crushed_ _the windowsill with his bare hands_ to even notice that he was walking out the front door. "I need to go right now," he said, strained, as if he was struggling to hold back a bout of rage.

This was it, then, the moment I should have been expecting. Now that Paul had found out the truth, he didn't want anything to do with me – 'oh she can't have kids, I can't waste my time; she was already used and damaged so I'm not _interested._ ' My heart filled with pain, but I guess this was for the best – it was what I wanted all along, wasn't it? For Paul to leave me alone? I told him about my past to be able to explain to him why we couldn't have anything between us. Now that he knew why, he just realized that he was just wasting his time.

That's what I _knew_ would happen, right?

But… ' _Nothing you say will change how I feel and nothing you say will make me want to stop being around you.'_ That's what he had said, wasn't it? So… No way, that wouldn't be enough for me. Not now, not after everything we had been through, and I sure as hell wouldn't let him leave after I had just poured my heart out to him. Damn it, I wouldn't let him take another step away without getting a proper explanation for his behavior, and I wouldn't be taking 'no' for an answer.

Letting the necklace fall to the floor with a slight clatter, I immediately hopped up from my spot on the couch and chased after him, cheeks red and eyes itchy. By the time I caught up with him, he was already halfway to his truck, and when I grabbed his arm he jumped away from me like my touch caused him physical pain. "Really?" I snapped, infuriated and ignoring the rain soaking my clothes. "Is that how it's going to work? After all the times you wouldn't leave me alone because you wanted to be my 'friend,' the very second I open up to you, you decide you don't want anything to do with me anymore and now you want me to _leave_? Well, fuck you, Lahote!"

It was hard to describe the expression on Paul's face, a mix of several different emotions that were struggling to stay together and intertwine. He looked frustrated, enraged, and… scared? Practically terrified - of what? None of what was going on was making any sense.

"And how the – _how the fuck did you break the windowsill?"_ I demanded before he could speak and force me away from him, searching for some sort of explanation. "How did you move so fast, and – and – _why are you shaking so much?_ "

The next few moments happened very fast, in such a way that it would be hard for me to fully remember them later. With every word I spoke, Paul's shaking grew faster, until finally his whole body shuddered just like he was having some sort of overwhelming seizure. The shudders raked over his skin, muscles vibrating. A wince appeared on his face as he clutched at his head in pain and let out the most horrific, horrifying growl from deep within his chest.

Then the world went silent. His entire body stiffened and he looked up at me, a blatant apology on his face and an expression reading, ' _I'm so sorry. Please forgive me._ '

And finally… Paul disappeared.

There wasn't much that my brain was able to comprehend. A flash of fur here, a glimpse of sharp teeth there, a scream that I think came from my own lips, an animalistic howl of pain and fear, warmth, a feeling of terror, then searing pain near my head and somewhere near my stomach and I was falling, falling, _falling_ backward towards the ground.

' _Supposedly, one of the first leaders of the Quileute tribe – his name was Taha Aki – he was a skin-walker – a spirit warrior that could turn into a wolf.'_

Darkness.

oOo

 _ **Another PSA:** Once again, reasons for why I'm saying this are at the above author's note, but for the rest of you, if you are feeling depressed or suicidal, please please PLEASE talk to someone about it. Everyone has doubts, everyone has questions, everyone feels pain and anguish and loneliness, but you don't have to go through it alone. Day by day, everyone. Just take it day by day. Breathe. Stop and think. We have crackling fireplaces, Marvel comics, pizza and french fries, books, early autumn breezes, hot showers, floral bouquets, the smell of the air after a heavy rain... This world really isn't that bad of a place. Have hope and know that you are not alone. Things will change, it will get better, and you need to be around to see it._

 _Also, on the other hand, be nice to others, too. Spread kindness. Spread love. You never know if someone else is suffering._

 _Next Time:_ _dreams of the past, news reports, and a mental breakdown in a hospital._


	18. The Panic Attack in the Hospital

_I can't tell you how grateful I am for all of the support and for the sudden up-flow in wonderful reviews. You guys are the best readers in the world! Also, it looks as if things are finally settling down so I should be getting back to my regular posting schedule, so updates should be much more frequent. Yay!_

 _Now, without further ado, let's get to the chaos, shall we? I'm sorry in advance._

Chapter 18:

" _I'm not afraid of werewolves or vampires or haunted hotels; I'm afraid of what real human beings do to other real human beings." – Walter Jon Williams_

 _17 Years Ago:_

" _No, Mr. Bird," a six-year-old Audrey insisted as she carefully and quietly crawled across the freshly mowed lawn toward the bird that was poking its beak into the mud. "You have to… stop!" She scrambled forward as the tiny animal launched itself upward into the sky with a worm dangling from its beak. A frown of distaste appeared on her face when it disappeared through the leaves of a nearby oak tree, and she gave a heaving sigh of frustration. Hands stained with dirt, she sat back in the grass and dramatically fell backward, hair sprawling across the ground._

 _A shadow fell over her body, blocking out the sun. "Having trouble, sweetheart?" her father's amused voice inquired._

 _Audrey looked up at the sound of his voice. Her father, skin tanned and sweaty from hours of working outside, crouched down beside her as she pointed out her predicament, pushing her finger accusingly in the direction of the tree like it had done her a personal wrong. "The bird flew away."_

" _Well now," her father said, playfully snatching her into his arms and hugging her to his chest as she let out as she let out a round of delighted giggles. "I wonder why that would be. Did you scare him away?"_

" _I just wanted to play with him, daddy," she explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He flew away."_

" _Into the tree?" her father clarified, waiting for her confirming nod before he got to his feet, fixing her on his hip as he headed toward the back shed._

" _And he had a big, fat worm in his teeth," she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she threw her arms out to show just how big the worm was. "He was wiggling around."_

" _I see," he said seriously, holding onto Audrey with one hand as he grabbed a small stepladder. "Well let's see if the two of us can see what Mr. Bird is up to, shall we princess?"_

 _Audrey nodded determinedly, nearly shaking with excitement as she was placed on the ground, watching as Caleb Perdue fixed the ladder near the tree, making sure it was sturdy before picking her up again. She clutched tightly to her father's neck as he climbed the ladder, twisting her entire body around to see between the branches and leaves._

 _There, in the crook of one of the branches, was a small nest. Inside, Audrey could see the small sparrow feeding two smaller baby birds while another, adult bird sat on the edge of the nest, looking down at his family. "Daddy," she said in an eagerly loud whisper, listening to the bird's chirp and tweet as they were fed, "the bird has a family!"_

" _Yes, it does," he agreed, watching the way his daughter's entire face lit up at the sight before them. "It was getting the worm so it could feed its babies, like mommy cooks for me and you."_

 _Audrey's face took on a look of horror as she misunderstood his words. "Mommy feeds us_ _ **worms**_ _?"_

 _Her father shook his head and laughed, the sound deep and booming. "No, sweetheart, that isn't what I meant. I mean that mommy makes food for us because she cares about us, just like the mommy bird got worms for its babies because it didn't want them to go hungry. They take care of each other like we take care of you."_

" _Oh," Audrey said, watching as the mommy bird settled behind its babies, and the other, larger bird settled next to the mother in the nest, nudging its beak into her neck. "They look happy, daddy."_

" _Of course they are, honey; they're happy because they're home and with their families," he explained. "If you would have caught the bird, then it wouldn't have been able to go back to its family. Animals, like people, aren't meant to be live their lives alone. They're supposed to love and be loved, like mommy and I love you –"_

" _\- and like I love you and mommy!" she finished cheerfully._

" _Exactly," he agreed, tapping his daughter on the nose. "You know, princess, you're going to meet a lot of people in your life, but one day you're going to meet someone who completely changes your world by showing you things that change everything you thought you knew. That's when you find out about a different kind of love – one that defies reality and makes the impossible seem real."_

In a private hospital room in Forks Medical Center, a single tear fell down an unconscious Audrey's cheek.

oOo

The dizziness hit first.

Wherever I was, darkness prevailed. The world was dim and spun around me. It felt as though I was rocking on a boat, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, spinning and twirling into oblivion. Everything hurt. My entire body was weary and, as the world started to slow on its axis and tilt in the correct direction, a dull pain on my temple grew stronger.

It was also cold, so very cold, overwhelmingly _freezing_. My body was frozen under what felt like a thin layer of scratchy sheets. I shivered uncontrollably, each moment bringing another wave of pain. My eyes felt tired and swollen, like they had been sewn shut and ripped open only recently. Behind my eyelids was nothing but a sensation of fear, so I kept them closed.

Then came the noises. A steady beeping from somewhere in the background, the sound of a voice filled with static over an intercom, the hum and whirr of machines working overtime, the rustling of sheets, and finally the low whisper of voices from somewhere around me.

"… Should have been told a long time ago," a familiar female voice angrily stated, the sound of footsteps accompanying her words. "Now look what he's done. Poor thing. And telling Thomas and Aiden that it was a bear attack was a stretch; _God_ , I know it's terrible to say but it's like Emily and Sam all over again. The poor woman had enough issues in her life and now she has to deal with this... fresh hell."

"He wanted to wait until the right time because he was afraid of telling her the truth, with good reason," said another voice, deeper and distinctly male. "They were doing so well and then he just… he just panicked. You should have heard his thoughts when he phased – I've never seen him so furious. When she told him… when she told him what happened to her, he went insane. The thought of her being hurt like that just infuriated him. He tried to get away from her, but… she chased after him." There was a pause. "At least there's one good thing that came out of this."

"What could possibly be good about this?" the woman snipped.

"We know that she's being affected by the imprint," he replied immediately. "If she wasn't feeling it, if she didn't feel anything for him, then she wouldn't have run after him." There was a sigh. "She finally opens up to him about her past and he's been beating himself up because of it. He thought he had killed her when he phased and now he doesn't know what to do with himself. He wants to be here, but he isn't sure if she would even want him here. He thinks that she's probably scared of him, and I saw a glimpse of her face before he… she was terrified. I've never seen that much fear on one person before."

"I'm sure she would like for him to be here, if only to get some sort of explanation. If he explains, maybe she would understand and give it a chance." There was silence. "You don't agree with me?"

"Did Emily want to be around Sam after she found out?" the male voice questioned. "After what he did to her? She left after he hurt her, Kim. I'm sure that Katherine wishes that she could do the same but, according to Paul, she doesn't really have anywhere else to go."

The woman, Kim, had a hushed voice when she spoke. "But Emily eventually went back to Sam."

"She did," he agreed. "But Katherine is _not_ Emily."

There was a sniffle, and Kim's voice sounded a bit clogged. "They were doing so well; Paul was so happy and so was she. I could tell, even though she did her best to hide it. It was turning out perfectly."

Paul. The name brought back a rush of memories into my skull, making me wince. Sounds of ripped clothing, inhuman growls, head cracking against the floor, and wood cracking under fingertips, bodies moving at impossible speeds, thick fur and an animal. A bear? No, no, not a bear… more like a…

Wolf.

The pounding in my head rushed back to me in waves, panic surging through my already overwhelmed system. Outside my body, the beeping grew faster, louder, and more pronounced. My chest hurt as I struggled to suck in shaky breaths, brain struggling to piece together what I had seen. Paul had been there, but then he wasn't. He had disappeared into thin air and was replaced by a humongous _wolf_.

Logic struggled with reality as I attempted to make sense of what I had seen. _Impossible, impossible, impossible, I must have been dreaming, yes that's it. Paul doesn't exist, this whole thing has just been some horrible nightmare, and I'm going to wake up back home in D.C. without a care in the world._

But outside my tiny existence, the beeping hastened and all conversations were cut off. There was a light pressure on the inside of my palm as though someone were clutching my hand in their own, and a hesitant voice whispering hopefully, "Katherine?"

Faster and faster came the beeping. All hopes that this was a dream had been completely crushed when I was called by my fake name. My head spun, a piercing pain somewhere at the side of my skull that felt like nails drilling into my brain. I was sure I let out a whimper of pain because the female voice was demanding, "Go get Doctor Cullen; I think she might be trying to wake up."

There was rustling, heavy footsteps walking across squeaky floors, a click of a door swinging open and shut, and a pressure squeezing my hand. "Katherine, if you can hear me, you need to relax. It's Kim, remember?" said the woman. "It's okay, you're safe; you just need to stop panicking."

But I was already too far into oblivion, slipping down, down, down, back into my unconscious state.

oOo

The second time that I slipped back into the world, it was without the sounds of conversation but with the endless cacophony of machinery whirring and beeping in the background. I tried to swallow but my throat felt parched and gritty, like I had just spent hours gargling sand. Licking at my chapped lips, I flexed my hands against the blanket below my fingertips, feeling the cool sheets and struggling to shift in my spot.

My eyes slowly opened and were hit by blinding light across my vision. I let them fall shut again and blinked to let them adjust to the sudden onslaught of light that attempted to burn out my eyes.

"Miss Montgomery?" The voice was soft and soothing, almost enticing in the way the words rolled off the tongue. Cold hands probed at the side of my head then gently grabbed my wrist. "Miss Montgomery, it's Doctor Carlisle Cullen. If you can hear me, try to squeeze my palm."

I hadn't seen Dr. Cullen since he had put the cast on my wrist, but I did as he asked. With any strength left in me, I attempted to squeeze the doctor's cold hand. I felt groggy but coherent enough to understand that I must have been in a hospital somewhere in Forks and that pain around my head and back told me that I had been injured from… something. I still wasn't sure what I had seen, so I didn't jump to any conclusions for the sake of my own sanity. Instead I focused on the here and now, on the gentleness of the doctor's voice, and the quiet beeping of the machines.

"Good," said the doctor, letting out a sigh of relief or contentment. "You've had a lot of people very worried, Miss Montgomery, but don't worry. You're in good hands, here."

My cracked lips fell open and I managed to shift myself, croaking out, "Water?"

Almost immediately a cup was pressed to my lips, and a steady hand was pressing against the back of my neck and pushing me forward to help me sip. "Not too quickly. Don't want to unsettle your stomach. It's been a while since you've had anything substantial."

My eyes flickered open once more. The light in the room was dim but still bright to my sensitive eyes. The room and ceiling spun for several moments, but I shook the feeling away. Finally my gaze settled on a tall man in a white coat standing at my bedside. I blinked as I studied him – blond hair perfectly fixed, a handsome face straight from one of Raphael's paintings, and the most beautiful golden eyes I've ever seen in my life.

He smiled when his eyes met mine. "Good morning. Or night, should I say, since it's well after midnight?"

"What happened?" I questioned him, voice breathy and nearly unintelligible with grogginess from what I assumed was some sort of heavy sedative or painkiller.

His smile faded. "What do you remember?"

"I –" _I remember Paul and a wolf; Paul had disappeared into thin air and the wolf appeared in his place. It really happened, I'm not crazy, I swear that's what I saw. He was there one minute and gone the next._ "I don't know," I whispered miserably, fingers clutching desperately at the sheets, heart stating to race. "I don't know, I don't – how could –"

The heart monitor raced along with my beating organ, and the doctor's gaze flickered toward it and back to me. "Miss Montgomery, I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me?"

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. "Yes."

"You've been in the hospital for three days," Carlisle explained, gently taking my chin in his hand to shine a light in my eyes. I resisted the urge to jerk away from the sudden light. "You were attacked by a bear."

There was something about his tone that seemed… off – like he knew that wasn't the real story. But… how would this man know anything about what had happened? The stern look he gave me told me that he knew much more than he was letting on, and something about that made me nervous, like he knew that if he didn't explain what 'happened' that I would start raving like a lunatic about men turning into wolves and subsequently land myself in the psych ward as a crazy person.

' _Supposedly, one of the first leaders of the Quileute tribe – his name was Taha Aki – was a skin-walker – a spirit warrior that could turn into a wolf. He protected the tribe from monsters – these… creatures called the Cold Ones.'_

' _We were great Spirit warriors, shape-shifters who could transform into the powerful wolf. This enabled us to scare off our enemies and protect our tribe from dangers we had never seen before. Monsters disguised as men, but it was hard as stone and cold as ice. Beautiful but deadly to those that didn't understand its true nature.'_

Monsters. Creatures called Cold Ones, stone skin, freezing cold –

 _Cold One?_

"A bear," I hesitantly conceded, watching his expectant gaze as he probed at the back of my head. "I was outside – I had a fight with Paul and I was going after him and this…" I cleared my throat, flopping back against the pillow. "A bear attacked me."

"Exactly," he nodded pleasantly, holding up a single finger. "Follow my finger without moving your head, please."

I did as he asked, eyes stinging from the struggle of having to keep them open for so long.

"I'm going to have to flip you over," he warned, gently shifting the blankets to get a good grip under my torso. I winced when he touched a sore spot, but his coldness felt soothing against my skin. "You have quite a bit of bruising and a few scratches on your back, but nothing that won't heal after a bit of time and plenty of rest. There are a few places on your stomach that needed stitches and they'll probably scar, but really, it's your head that's to be worried about," he stated. "You hit it hard enough to give yourself a concussion."

I had a brief flashback to stepping back in fear from the giant animal that had appeared in front of me, tripping over my own two feet and stumbling backward. My head slammed against something hard and heavy, back slamming onto the ground. "I hit it when I fell to the ground."

"Yes, you did," he agreed. I felt his cold fingers messing with the bandages and bindings around my torso, and then cool fingers pressing gently around heavily bruised areas around the small of my back. "You have no idea how lucky you are to come out almost unscathed. Most people aren't so lucky."

I disagreed with his use of the word 'lucky' but didn't voice my opinion. "I feel a bit lightheaded," I mumbled, face pressed into my pillow.

"Understandable," Carlisle said, slowly helping me turn back onto my side. "That feeling will fade soon enough, but you've been through a great ordeal. It's no wonder that the whole situation has been a terrible shock to your system, both mentally and otherwise. Your physical scars and bruises will heal, but emotionally… well, I suppose that's what family and friends are for, isn't it? To help us heal emotionally when we've been through times of struggle?"

I chose to ignore the pointed jab. "My boys," I stated instead. "Are they okay? Thomas and Aiden?"

Carlisle nodded, fiddling with a machine somewhere to my left. "They're both fine, though obviously worried about you."

I allowed myself to relax and settle back into the pillows, wincing slightly when I felt Carlisle's fingers touch the back of my skull again. "You're one of them, aren't you?" I murmured sleepily before I could stop myself, feeling a wave of tiredness rush over my limbs. "One of the… Cold Ones. From the stories."

To Carlisle's credit, he did not even pause in his ministrations. "That is an old name for what I am, but yes. You need not worry. No harm will come to you while you are under my care, I promise."

"Thank you."

The doctor's eyes flickered upward toward my face then back to the task at hand. His gaze softened, and he laid a cool hand on my burning forehead. "You're very welcome. Now, you should get some rest. Do you need something for the pain so that you'll be able to sleep?"

I didn't even hear him. I was already gone.

oOo

 _"The Quileute's have been a small tribe from the beginning, but we have always had magic in our blood."_

 _In the dream, she was running._

 _From what or whom, she could not say. All she truly knew at that moment was that she could not stop running. If she did, the consequences would be disastrous. Her calves burned and her thighs ached, rocks and twigs digging into the skin of her bare feet, but she never faltered._

 _A howl echoed through the trees, close enough to cause alarm, and nearby she heard the pounding of heavy feet against the dirt. Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation, right at the moment that a large figure fell into step beside her. It was a giant wolf, covered in soft fur and razor sharp teeth, and kept in time with her pace even though both she and the creature knew he could go much faster._

 _Audrey barely managed to send the creature a sideways glance as she tried her best not to trip on several protruding roots. The wolf glanced over at the same time she did, but what caught her immediate gaze wasn't the dangerous teeth, or the fur that looked soft enough to fall asleep on, or even the low grumble within its chest. His eyes – orbs so dark that the iris seemed to blend in with the pupil so that you didn't know where one began and the other ended - immediately captivated her. They were mystifying and endless, like a black hole threatening to suck in any person who dared to look._

 _'We were great Spirit warriors, shape-shifters who could transform into the powerful wolf. This enabled us to scare off our enemies and protect our tribe from dangers we had never seen before.'_

 _Then the dream changed, and instead of the cold dampness of the forest and the leaves sticking to her feet, she felt the contented sleepiness that came with having a nice meal and a warm environment. Her toes curled into soft sheets, fingers tightening around fluffy blankets. A hum of happiness left her lips._

 _"It's almost noon," said an amused voice from somewhere above her. "Don't you think you should be getting up and facing the day by now?"_

 _The source of the voice was welcome, but his words were not. "No," she grumbled, curling deeper into her nest of sheets and blankets. "I'm too comfortable." Automatically, Audrey blindly reached out for the source of the rough voice, hand coming into contact with a hard body and warm skin. "Come and join me. I'm starting to get cold."_

 _There was a shuffle of footsteps walking across the floor, but the voice – obviously male – conceded with her wishes. She felt him climb in next to her, and he placed a kiss on the lump under the blankets that he assumed was her head. "You're such a lazy ass on the weekends, you know that, right?"_

" _I deserve to be lazy every once in a while," she pointed out, pushing her slightly chilly feet against his warm ankle. "And so do you. Which is why I can't understand why you insist on getting up early on Saturdays when it's so much more fun to laze around in bed. With me - you know, the best thing that ever happened to you."_

 _The covers disappeared from the top of her head and strong hands went to tickle her sides. She laughed loudly at the feeling and playfully struggled to squirm away, but the man only pulled her closer, entwining protective arms around her waist. Her head automatically pressed itself into his neck, fingers curling around his bicep._

 _Finally, she lifted her head._

 _Day in and day out, she would never be able to comprehend why he had chosen her – or really, why fate had chosen them for each other. He was so handsome, so wonderful, so incredible; someone that, despite the fact that he was a little rough around the edges, her father would have approved of. This man – this man that she loved with the entirety of her being – was someone that she sorely needed, though she hadn't always known it. Someone who knew she was independent and didn't try to make her be submissive; someone who stood as her equal, that supported her when she asserted herself and gave her his shoulder when she needed to cry._

 _He was a man that, despite his flaws and attitude problems, treated her the way she deserved to be treated. Which, really, was what she had wanted all along._

 _Audrey traced a hand down his cheek, trailing her thumb over the corner of his eye. His eyes – definitely one of her favorite parts of him. Dark, enticing, sexy, deep and mysterious, telling her how he felt without having to say the words aloud. The eyes were the windows to the soul, and in his, she felt like she could see all of the answers to every question she ever had._

 _Just like when she looked at the –_

 _Wolf._

oOo

Through the thick glass window in the Clearwater's living room, dark clouds raged throughout the Washington sky. Thunder rumbled from a faraway place, light drops crashing against the window in preparation for the heavy rain that would soon begin; lightning flashed in the distance, lighting up the horizon. The teenager that had fallen asleep on the couch, covered in spare blankets, did not move at the sudden increase of noise outside, nor did he flinch at the sound of the TV playing softly in the background. Exhausted and stressed, Isaac Perdue had fallen deeply into unconsciousness as soon as he collapsed on the beat-up sofa almost immediately after he stepped into the house. He couldn't have been more grateful to Sue and her family for letting him and Luke stay at their house, even if they barely had enough room for themselves.

Luke, on the other hand, could not seem to fall asleep despite his tiredness. Curled up in his own blanket at his uncle's side with Mr. Hoppy clutched tightly in his arms, he flinched every time another strike of thunder rocked the house. He sniffled, wanting nothing more than for them to be back home again so that he could crawl into his mother's bed so she could protect him from the storm.

Frowning profusely in that way that only a child could, he slowly disentangled himself from his uncle, pausing only a moment when Isaac grumbled and turned onto his side, stretching his limbs across the sofa. Luke shivered when his cold feet hit the floor, and he dragged his stuffed animal and blanket over to the TV. On the screen, a blonde woman was talking directly into the camera, reporting something or other that Luke didn't really care about. Instead, he grabbed the remote off of the coffee table and frowned at it, ignoring the sounds on the television as the woman continued to talk.

"… the case has now hit national news and we finally have confirmation that the Federal Bureau of Investigation has joined forces with D.C. police in order to catch this criminal before more people can be harmed. We look to our government correspondent, Jim Perkins, who was at the scene earlier today where the Head of the FBI is getting ready to have a press conference."

The screen switched, but Luke barely glanced up from his task of examining the remote. The state Capitol building stood behind the man in the thick coat on the screen, behind which several people in official suits were running about near a podium and microphone. "Thanks, Kristen," said the reporter. "Right now, Frederick Marshall is getting ready to take the stage and give us a basic report on whether or not the government has this situation under control, something that has been on the minds of the American people for several months. People are worried about their lives, their families, their safety, and sadly, it appears that – oh, wait a moment, Mr. Marshall appears to be taking the stand."

There was a flurry of excitement on the screen as a tall, dark-skinned man took the stand, his expression somber. Once the excitement died down, he began to speak. "We know that this is a tragic time for this country, especially those who have lost family members due to the mistake of the escape of convicted criminal Frankie De Palma. We send our condolences to the families that were torn apart because of this tragedy, and we can assure you that we are doing everything in our power to bring him to justice once more. Because of the tragic death of former defense attorney –"

The screen flickered as Luke finally changed the channel. " – _nautical nonsense be something you wish – Spongebob Squarepants. Then drop on the deck and flop like a fish – Spongebob Squarepants!_ "

Without a second thought, he settled back on his spot on the floor, curled up in his blanket, and focused on his cartoon.

oOo

The third time that I woke from my uncomfortable slumber in the hospital, it was to Isaac's tired voice mumbling something about basic addition and subtraction. "… so that means if you had four apples and gave away three to your friends, you would only have one apple left over for yourself."

There was the scribbling of pencils on paper, and Luke's response. "Oh."

"And if you had five apples and gave away two, how many would you have?"

A pause. "Three?"

"Why are you talking about apples?" I slurred lazily, still groggy from whatever pain medication that they had given me.

A light gasp came from somewhere near my feet. "Mommy, mommy!" Luke cried out. A heavy weight collapsed on my chest, thin arms wrapping tightly around my torso. "You're awake!"

I gasped at the sudden pain that flooded through my stomach where his finger pressed, only managing to catch a glimpse of the top of his head when I opened my eyes. "Be gentle, sweetie," I winced, gently prying his grip from my waist before I gave him a reassuring pat on the head. "Mommy is in a lot of pain right now."

Isaac stood patiently beside the bed, hands shoved in his pockets. He rolled his shoulders back as though he wanted to reach out and give me a hug, but didn't.

I simply rolled my eyes at him, holding out my free arm. "Oh, come here and give me a hug, you brat."

He cracked a smile and did as I asked, carefully wrapping his arms around me. A tear slipped out of my eye as I clutched both of them to me, planting a kiss on both of their heads. "I'm so glad you guys are okay. Have you both been getting to school on time? You've been eating regularly?"

"Yeah, of course," Isaac reassured me with a tired grin. "Sue Clearwater has been letting us crash at her place while you've been here, and she's been making sure that we're fed and get to school and do our homework and stuff. I'm sure that Emily and Sam would have done the same but they've been busy with the baby and all – and, well, we haven't really seen much of Paul since it happened, but we've been told he's been really busy."

Isaac's contented look disappeared as he watched the expression on my face change. Just the mention of Sam, Emily, and Paul sent a chill up my spine because… because I had figured it out. I had discovered – unintentionally, obviously – the big secret that Paul had been hiding, right after I had poured out my heart to him. It couldn't have been – _shouldn't_ have been possible, but it was. Paul was a… a… something. He was something that wasn't human, something that shouldn't have existed.

 _A werewolf._

And if he was, then that had to have meant that Sam was, too? They were too similar to not have that freaky ailment in common – huge, intimidating, high body temperatures, all running around shirtless with the same cropped hairstyle and that stupid tattoo… But then again, Sam and Paul weren't the only two to have those traits, were they? Jared? Collin, Brady and Seth? Even Jacob, Quil, and Embry? _All_ of them? It had to have been some sort of cult. Then there was Emily, Kim, and Leah? Where did they fit in? Why were they around? Did they know the secret, too?

But despite the fact that I didn't know where the girls fit into this insane puzzle, the hardest part to swallow was the fact that the rest of it actually made _sense._ As impossible as it was, it… it… the stories, the odd behavior, the quick speeds, the insane strength… pieced together it just… clicked. It was both logical and illogical at the same time, but it was also terrifying and dangerous and definitely not something that should have been trifled with under any circumstances.

We had stepped right into real life _Silent Hill_ and were right in the path of the monsters.

I reached out and gripped Isaac's arm hard enough to make him wince. "Listen to me very carefully," I said in quick, hushed tones. I was sure that I sounded partially frantic, but I didn't care; I needed to get this out, to warn them, to tell them to stay away from the danger before I fell unconscious again. "I don't want you going to the Clearwater's anymore, okay? I don't want you anywhere _near_ their house, or Sam and Emily… I don't want you associating with any of them – not Sam and Emily, not Collin, Brady, or Seth - _none of them._ And not Paul. _Especially_ not Paul."

He gave me a strange look, prying my fingers from his arm. "What are you talking about? They've been just as worried about you as Thomas and I; Sue always stops by to see how you're doing, and so do Kim and Jared. Everyone has been here at least once over the past few days and like I said before, we haven't really seen Paul recently but –"

The thought of those… _monsters_ being at my bedside while I was asleep sent a chill up my spine. My eyes widened and I clutched at Isaac's shirt, suddenly panicked. My breathing was harsh and ragged, and with the surprised expression on my brother's face, I was sure that I looked positively wild. " _Isaac; stay away from them._ "

His brows scrunched as he wrapped my hand in both of his own. "What's going on? What happened?"

"It's not safe around them," I replied immediately, urgent. "It's not safe for either of you to be near them so you need to make sure that –"

I never got the chance to finish my statement, for two of the subjects of our conversation walked into the room: Kim and Jared, who both seemed to be intently arguing about something. The room went silent, and they both looked up.

Relief spread through Kim's face but Jared… he looked wary, as if he knew what I was thinking. I didn't hear Isaac when he spoke to Kim, didn't see him when he gave me a strange look; I didn't feel Kim's hand on my arm and I didn't feel Luke as he buried his face in my shirt. Instead, my eyes were locked on Jared, and his gaze didn't waver from mine. We were at a standstill, unblinking.

Oh, he knew. He knew, without a doubt. And he knew that _I_ knew. He was waiting – yes, that's what he was doing; waiting for me to speak first to gauge just how _much_ I knew; waiting to see my reaction, or if I would yell or scream.

"Katherine?" Kim said hesitantly, her hand patting my own as if to get my attention.

I flinched so harshly from her touch that I bumped into Isaac, effectively pulling the bandaged wounds on my stomach. And then _she_ knew, too; realized what I was thinking and the dangerous places that my thoughts were straying. Then my eyes were back on Jared again and my breathing was heavy and panicked and my thoughts were blurring together, tears stinging in my eyes and everything was moving fast, so fast and and and and –

I blindly reached out and grabbed the first thing that my fingers touched, which happened to be the remote for the old TV hanging off the far wall, and chucked the thing as hard as I could in Jared's direction. His eyes widened in surprise and he only just managed to dodge out of the way as I screamed at the top of my lungs, " _GET AWAY FROM US; BOTH OF YOU, GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!_ "

My brain was a hive of redness, unsettled thoughts running rampant and banging into the walls of my mind. Oh, I was terrified. The memory of searing pain and a man changing into a monster right in front of my eyes was still too near and too fresh. I was only vaguely aware that I was still shrieking out of fear and pain and panic, shaking so harshly that I could barely see straight. I heard shouting over my own cries, the hustle and bustle of rapidly moving feet, and finally a slight sting somewhere on my upper left bicep.

Then… nothing.

oOo

 _Next Time:_ _Scars, secrets, imprints, and mourning._


	19. The Makeshift Apology on the Doormat

Chapter 19:

" _No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear." – C.S. Lewis,_ _A Grief Observed_

The glaring light in the hospital bathroom was synthetic and artificial, bouncing off of the shiny and sterile tiled walls that sent a glare into my eyes as it shot off of the mirror. I stood only a bit shakily in the small room, clad in only my underwear, and stared at myself in the pristine glass. Or at least, I stared at my now mutilated body that seemed to taunt me in the reflection.

There were several horribly deep scars running diagonally across my torso, most of the skin around them – as well as certain areas on my neck and back from when they had banged against the ground – were mottled with deep purple and blue bruises. It caused searing pain to bend over, to reach up or down, turn to the side, roll over… even sitting up caused an awful burning in my abdomen. They were awful and ugly, mocking me with the knowledge that the trio of ugly marks would be there forever.

I heard the whispers and rumors of the nurses when they walked past the door. " _Attacked by a bear, poor dear,_ " they all said, gossiping like they had nothing better to do while people were dying around them. " _Honestly, what are the odds? That's what you get for walking around in the woods at night, I suppose._ "

The odds, I wanted to tell her, were slim. Entirely too slim. A grown woman randomly walking in the woods alone at night for no reason? Right. I knew better than to walk into the woods looking for monsters; it just so happened that I was unlucky enough that the monsters decided to come to me.

I shook my head, unwashed hair flopping into my eyes. The thought was still too unreal and preposterous to comprehend.

The dark circles around my eyes deepened as I scowled at the mirror, right as a pointed knock came from outside of the bathroom door. "Miss Montgomery? Are you finished? We need to rewrap your scars so they don't get infected."

I pursed my lips but still reached out to push the door open half of an inch as a signal to the nurse that she could enter.

She beamed at me in an infuriating way that made my skin crawl, her hands laden with bandages and a tube of antibiotic cream. "You'll be out of here in no time," she said conversationally, obviously at home with what she was doing if the nearly robotic movements of her hands were any indicator. The cream was cold when it hit my stomach on her gloved hands, but I didn't flinch. "Dr. Tubbens was very impressed with the rate that you're healing, so I'm assuming you'll be discharged any day now."

Ah, yes. Dr. Tubbens, my current physician; a nice man, if a bit ditzy, and not at all handsome like the elusive Dr. Cullen, who had mysteriously decided to pass me on as a patient not long after my screaming fit. I still wasn't sure why and the nurses were equally baffled when I asked, so I simply assumed that he figured that since I knew what he was, he thought I might be afraid of him.

But he wasn't the one who attacked me. He wasn't the… the _creature_ that almost killed me.

The nurse was still talking, not knowing that I was barely listening. "… it's because you're a woman, you know. Men – nah, they can't handle that kind of pain. But women are strong - sturdy and made to last. I always say that's why God granted women the ability to have children. The human race wouldn't have survived if we had to rely on men for reproduction. Women are simply… resilient."

Yeah. Resilient. That's exactly what it was.

"Oh, come on, sweetie; don't look so down," she scolded, spotting the obviously not amused expression that graced my face. "You have to make the best out of a bad situation, right?" When I didn't reply, she added, "Well, if not for yourself then put on a smile for those two boys of yours. They've been so worried since you had your," she hesitated, suddenly uncomfortable, "panic attack."

Even though I hated to admit it, she was right. Several days had passed since my… episode, and Luke and Isaac barely wanted to leave my side. They were at a loss, unsure as to why I had freaked out around two people that I had previously called friends, but Isaac seemed to understand that whatever I was thinking, it was serious. Whatever had happened, it had obviously terrified me, so he followed my instructions and stayed away from the residents of La Push as much as possible.

Which wasn't exactly hard to do. As far as I knew, he took himself and Luke to school and came right back to the hospital after to do his homework. Besides, Kim, Jared, Paul, or anyone else from the reservation hadn't so much as stopped by to say hello. That was a good thing. It was exactly what I wanted, right?

So… why did I feel like complete and utter shit?

Deep down I knew there was a lot more to this than I was actually aware of – more details and facts and… something. I had questions – _God,_ did I have questions, but was I really curious enough to go out of my way and find answers? Was my curiosity enough to risk my health and my life and my safety – and more importantly, the safety of Luke and Isaac?

No. It wasn't.

When I was dressed and all fixed up, the nurse led me back into the other room and, with the help of Isaac, the two helped to lift me back into my bed as painlessly as possible. Almost immediately, the woman held up a plastic cup of water and a small pile of pills – two antibiotics and a small dose of Xanax. "Just to make sure you don't give yourself another anxiety attack," they had said. "You've been through a traumatic event; it's not shameful to need help."

But I didn't want to have to live the rest of my life being medicated, even if I _did_ feel like I was going absolutely insane.

"Did you two finish your homework?" I asked, popping back the pills in an attempt to avoid an argument with the nurse.

"Finished," he replied simply, lifting Luke onto his lap as he sat at the chair across the room. Luke scrunched his brows as he clutched at a red crayon, tongue between his teeth while he determinedly scribbled on a sheet of paper. "How are you feeling?"

"Disgusting and sore," I said sincerely, giving a pointed glance to the nurse. "I want to wash my hair."

The woman obviously knew my statement was meant for her, so she turned and scolded me with her hands on her hips. "I already told you several times that you can't put shampoo and conditioner in your stitches. You'll be going home any day now and then you'll be able to wash your hair as many times as you want."

I rolled my eyes at the nurse's retreating back, sighing in frustration when the door fell shut with a resounding _click._ "I'll be happy as soon as I can get away from this place. I'm going absolutely stir-crazy here."

Isaac cleared his throat. "I actually wanted to talk to you about that," he said hesitantly, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck in discomfort. "What's your plan for when we get back to the house? We literally live on the reservation next to some of the people you're trying your hardest to avoid. How is that going to work? You can't avoid them forever."

He was right. I sure as hell couldn't avoid them forever but I could avoid them for as long as humanly possible – at least until I figured out what to do, gathered my bearings, and searched for a bit of information. And hopefully convinced Monique to relocate us somewhere different.

But… La Push had been the first place that felt like an actual home in years. Did I really want to leave just like that? No… but I didn't really have any other alternatives.

"I'll figure something out," I answered. "Right now, I'm not going to focus on it."

There was a long moment of silence as a mental debate went on in Isaac's brain. "Katherine, I don't want this to be like last time. You can't just shut yourself away and pretend that the rest of the world doesn't exist. You can't live as a recluse for the rest of your life; you realize that, don't you?"

"Of course I do," I argued. "I'm not going to live as a recluse. I just – we just need to find better people to be friends with."

He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, "Well they seemed awfully great to me." Then, "Are you ever going to tell me what happened or are you going to leave me in the dark forever?"

I frowned, ignoring the strain and pain from pulled skin that came when I crossed my arms over my chest. "No, I probably won't. I don't owe you an explanation; just trust me when I say that I know what's best for you."

He sighed but something dangerous behind his gaze flashed. "Right, of course not. Because why would the Ice Queen need help from anyone other than herself? Not like you're human like the rest of us mere mortals or anything."

 _Not human?_ I thought wryly, setting back in the bed without saying a word. _If only you knew._

oOo

Bright and early over two and a half weeks after I first woke up in the hospital and almost three weeks since the… incident, I was finally released from my prison and allowed to go home. It was a welcome change since I was so tired of the endlessly beeping machines, disgusting food, and cringe-worthy hospital smell that seeped into every available surface. I was ready for a warm bed and a hot shower, hot tea in a mug while curled up in front of the fireplace in a bunch of fluffy blankets.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea?" Isaac stated from beside me as a nurse rolled my wheelchair to the front of the hospital, clutching onto Luke's hand as he walked. "Doctor Tubbens said that it would be okay if you wanted to stay for a little longer just to make sure that you're fully healed."

"If I stay in this place any longer, I might actually go insane," I replied, shifting awkwardly in the uncomfortable chair.

Isaac didn't look as confident in my answer as I wanted him to be, but he apparently concluded that it was best not to argue with me. I wasn't surprised that he was feeling this way, knowing that he was probably worried about my mental state more than my physical injuries. I was adamant in my refusal to give him an explanation for my behavior and sudden shunning of the reservations of La Push 0 like he would even believe me if I told him the truth – and it had caused a bit of a rift between us. I knew that my refusal would eventually come back to bite me in the ass, but I figured that, for the time being, I would leave it as it was and deal with the issues later.

"No need to worry about it, hon," the nurse interjected cheerfully, fingers drumming a steady rhythm on the handles of the wheelchair. "As long as you follow the instructions we gave you on how to properly clean and take care of your injuries, you should be completely fine. Of course, we would love to keep you a few more days for observational purposes but it's totally fine that you want to go home. I know how it can get a bit claustrophobic staying here for days on end."

I gave Isaac a pointed look, but he ignored me, choosing instead to reach down and swing Luke into his arms.

The ride home was awkwardly silent, and I winced with every bump Isaac's new truck took over the uneven road. I wanted to open my mouth and say something – anything – that would be at least a little reassuring, but I couldn't find the words. There wasn't really anything that could be said that would make the situation any better.

But maybe that was a good thing, because I found a hell of a lot to say when we pulled up to the front of our house and saw that there was someone sitting on our porch.

"I want the two of you to stay in the truck and lock the doors," I stated immediately, eyes locked on the exhausted native man sitting on the porch swing. "Don't get out until I say it's safe."

Isaac followed my gaze and frowned deeply in his confusion, but nodded in agreement. "Okay. Are you sure you can walk to the porch by yourself? You looked like you were in a bit of pain on the way here."

"I'm injured, not crippled," I snipped, harshly shoving open the door and nearly stumbling on my own two feet. "I can walk by myself."

The man, Sam Uley, didn't move a muscle as I approached the porch, but I felt his calculating eyes follow me with every step that I took. I knew this would be a battle of wills between us. He knew that I wasn't going to take any bullshit, and I knew exactly why he was here; plus, we _both_ knew that he shouldn't be sitting on my porch when he wasn't welcome. It would simply be a matter of time to see who would break first, and I would be damned if it was me.

I abruptly halted a few paces away for my own peace of mind, somehow knowing that he would be able to hear me perfectly whether I was next to him or across the yard. Every nerve ending felt like it was on fire, and my muscles refused to relax from their tense state. I was completely on edge, and from the look on his face, he knew it. "You and your kind aren't welcome here anymore," I stated almost robotically, struggling to keep my voice strong. "And you damn well know it. You need to leave before I call the police and have you forcibly removed."

To my surprise, he nodded in complete agreement. "I know. I don't want to be here just about as much as you don't want me here. Ever since you came to this town you've been nothing but trouble - throwing my whole pack into a tailspin. Trust me, you aren't the only one who doesn't want to be having this conversation."

I blinked, mentally giving him points for his honesty. "Then why are you here?"

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because of Emily. She wanted me to make sure that you were okay since we weren't exactly able to pay a visit while you were in the hospital and she isn't able to come over now because she's taking care of Takoda. I told her that since you screamed at Jared in the hospital, that was probably a big hint that you didn't want to be around any of us, but she insisted that I at least come and check on you."

"Well, now that you've seen what you need to see, you can leave. And never come back."

He didn't respond immediately; he just… studied me in an intense way that made me shift in my spot, bandages scratching awkwardly at my skin as I moved. His eyes settled on my torso when I couldn't hide my wince of pain, his frown deepening. Then he stood and I automatically took a step back. "You know, Katherine, I have to give you credit. There aren't many people who would be brave enough to have a stare down with me."

My immediate reaction was to respond with, 'I'm not afraid of you,' but I knew that was what he was expecting me to say and we both would know that it was a lie. I _was_ scared of Sam, wary and hesitant in my every move when I was near him because he was a generally intimidating man; I was just really good at hiding my fear. Instead, I settled on honesty, whether he believed me or not. "I've seen much scarier."

Something in my tone must have told Sam that I was being completely honest, and I knew that his thoughts were heading in the opposite direction of mine. He had been thinking of Paul as the scariest thing that I had ever seen – and yes, just the mere thought of Paul sent a tremor of foreign emotions up my spine – but there were much darker things in the world that haunted my nightmares.

Finally, his eyes flashed with something like pity and he spoke, but it was as if he was only partially speaking to me, "I used to wonder why Paul imprinted on you, because your relationship with him was like tossing oil on a fire – eventually someone was going to get burned. Badly. It was inevitable, I guess, but really, you two couldn't be more perfect for each other. Neither of you ever swallow your pride enough to ask for help when you need it - not even from the people who actually care about you."

He used words that didn't exactly make sense – imprint? Pack? – but I knew enough to get the gist of what he was saying, and I pointedly ignored the dig at myself. "I don't have a relationship with –" I cleared my throat, unable to force out the name. "I can promise you that I won't be any trouble anymore. I don't want to have anything to do with any of you; and I sure as hell don't want you ever near my family."

"It's killing you inside, isn't it?" he replied knowingly, completely disregarding everything I was saying for his own agenda. "The pain you feel right now that doesn't have anything to do with your injuries, the curiosity as to why things are the way that they are, the unexplained grief… it's more sadness than fear. I can see it written all over your face. You want to ask, so ask."

I clenched my jaw. "I don't care enough to ask."

"Of course you don't."

There was a pause and I suddenly felt extremely tired – more resigned than fearful - and all I wanted was to go crawl into bed and sleep for a year. "You really need to leave, Sam." Then as an afterthought, my voice barely above a whisper, "Please just go."

He held his hands up defensively, conceding. "Fine, I'll go. I want you to know that this will be the last time that you see any of us; we're going to do what you want, even if it's practically killing Paul. We –"

His words were meant to strike a nerve in me, and they did, but I don't think I gave him the reaction that he was looking for. "Practically… killing _him?_ " I gaped, fists clenching. "He nearly killed _me!_ I'm going to be scarred for the rest of my life and it's _his fault!_ He –" Then I stopped mid-sentence because from the look on his face, Sam knew exactly what I meant and where my thoughts were straying, piecing things together, and it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks falling on top of my skull and I wanted to hit myself for not realizing the obvious until that moment – _Emily._

"Oh, my God," I said in realization, suddenly feeling ill and taking another step back from him. I covered my mouth with my hands, voice muffled. "You – you did that to – oh my _God._ And she _married_ you? You're all _monsters._ "

Sam had the decency to look ashamed, but he didn't back down. If anything, he looked more determined. "I know he hurt you more than words can describe, and I've been in his place so I know how he feels, and I know how _you_ are feeling because I know how it was for Emily. No one is blaming you for being scared because you have every right to be, but you should at least let him explain before you shove him aside forever."

I hesitated only a fraction of a second, but during that fraction of a second I felt an overwhelming fury fly up my spine, my hands beginning to shake with rage. During my time in La Push, Paul had forced his way into my life and carved out a spot in my heart, but after being hurt so profusely... was there any way to be whole again? At that moment, I didn't think so, so I said, "He doesn't deserve the chance to explain. And you tell that bastard that if I ever see him again, _I'll kill him myself_."

Somewhere dangerously close by, a heartbreaking howl echoed through the air. My gaze shot to Sam, who glanced toward the forest, and _of course_ , how could I be so stupid? It finally clicked; Paul wasn't just a wolf – he was _the_ wolf that had lurked outside my house for so long and he was probably just beyond my line of sight in the trees right then, listening to the entirety of our conversation.

But Sam didn't say anything else about Emily and he didn't mention the fact that Paul was probably sitting right beyond the tree line. He simply nodded and shrugged his shoulders, giving me a kind wave of farewell that he obviously didn't mean. "If that's the way you want it, fine. I'll pass on the message to the rest of the pack. It was nice knowing you, Katherine. Truly it was. I'm sorry that things turned out the way that they did, but I wish you the best. We all do."

His words were kind and struck somewhere deep within my chest, but the tone of his voice was careless, as if it didn't matter to him whether or not he ever saw me again. There was a part of me that didn't blame him and was glad to be rid of him – I knew he probably wasn't wrong when he said that my arrival in La Push had caused a lot of problems – but another part of me was almost… sad to see him go, and that was the part that made me call out to him one last time. "Sam?"

He stopped but didn't turn around to face me.

There were so many things that I wanted to ask, but my brain kept going in a circle back to a single word that I had heard several times, but its meaning remained a mystery. "What's an imprint?"

Then he _did_ turn back around and to my surprise, he gave me a very sad but knowing smile. "I thought you didn't care enough to ask?" But right before he turned around to walk away, he opened his mouth to speak again. "Oh, and someone dropped something off at your front door. Might want to pick it up before it gets ruined."

He walked off without turning back, down into the trees and out of sight.

I watched the empty tree line for longer than I should have until I finally turned and gestured for Luke and Isaac to exit the car. "What the hell was that about?"

I simply shook my head, already rushing toward the porch to see what had been 'dropped off.' I wasn't sure what I was expecting - a package from the mailman? A long winded letter of apology? Something dangerous from De Palma? Almost all of them seemed entirely unlikely, but when I spotted the tiny object in front of the door, I realized that I wasn't exactly far off in my guess.

On top of the bristled welcome mat that adorned the creaky boards of the porch, petals fluttering lightly in the wind, was a single white tulip.

oOo

Covered with blankets with a warm laptop in my lap and Luke sleeping soundly next to me, I held my cell phone to my ear and stared blankly at the search engine on the screen. I was hardly listening to the ranting woman on the other end of the phone, thoughts too scattered as I slumped down in the comfort of my own bed for the first time in ages.

"… Of all the stupid things to do, Katherine, I swear to God – a bear? _Seriously?_ Do you have any idea how worried I was when I couldn't reach you? I thought that –" There was a huff, and I could almost see the way she pinched the bridge of her nose in aggravation. "I sent you there to be _safe,_ not to be attacked by a wild animal! What kind of person wakes up one morning and thinks, 'hey, I'm going to go head to head with a bear today!'"

"Because I totally did it on purpose," I mumbled quietly, refusing to wince as I leaned back against the pillow. The marks across my torso still burned with phantom pains whenever I moved, and whatever painkiller I had been prescribed wasn't strong enough to do anything but give me a light buzz.

"I was _so close_ to sending out a fucking search party because I didn't hear from you," she replied angrily. "You need to find a way to keep yourself out of these situations, Katherine, for your own wellbeing and for Aiden and Thomas."

"You were the one who sent us here in the first place," I shot back, glancing at Luke before lowering my voice again. "But I didn't call you to have you yell at me for hours on end. There's something I need to discuss with you and it needs to be now."

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Besides everything else that's been fucked up over the last few weeks."

I tapped my fingers against the laptop and bit my lip. "Is there any way you can relocate us? Any way at all?"

Silence. "What did you do?" she questioned suspiciously. "Did you contact anyone from your former life?"

"Well, no –"

"Have you seen any sign of anyone who even _looks_ like he could be working with De Palma?"

"No, of course not, I would have told you if –"

"Have you accidentally slipped and told anyone your real name? Your real identity?"

" _No -_ "

"Then there's no reason for you to have to move," she said with finality. "This isn't a game where you can just hop to the next house if you find you dislike the place you're in now or if you feel a little uncomfortable about something. Unless there's a dire emergency, I can't help you. Do you understand?"

There _was_ a dire emergency, but I sure as hell couldn't tell her that, could I? She wouldn't believe me; she would think I was crazy and that I had finally gone off the deep end. Besides, there was a side of me that didn't want to tell anyone else – it seemed like something that they had all tried very hard to keep a secret, so why should I just blurt it out to everyone? It wasn't my business and it wasn't my problem. "Yeah, I understand."

"I'm sorry, but –"

"I know," I replied softly, reaching out to rest a hand on the top of Luke's head when he shifted under the blankets. "I know there isn't anything you can do. We just have to wait it out, right?"

"Right," she said after a moment. "Just have to wait it out. We haven't gotten any new information about him and there aren't any new leads. We heard that he was somewhere in Cincinnati, but that was a dead end, so we're back on the search. He's keeping quiet for some reason – no murders, no notes, no sightings…"

"I'm sure you're all doing your best," I replied stiffly.

"Audrey." It was the first time that I had heard my real name in a long time, and I almost didn't respond to it. "It's going to be okay."

"Yeah," I murmured. "I wish I was as confident as you are."

We didn't stay on the phone much longer than that; I gave her an excuse that she probably didn't believe, saying that I was tired and ready for bed. When my phone was safely on my bedside table, I settled back against the pillows and resumed my staring at the search engine on the computer screen. The cursor moved back and forth over the website's logo as I debated what I should type, until I finally broke down and wrote 'imprint.'

85 million results, none of which were helpful. To imprint was 'to impress or stamp a mark on a surface.' Imprinting was when 'a young animal comes to recognize another animal or person as a parent of habitual trust.' There was a website about custom printed t-shirts, a newspaper company, and something about a TV show called Masters of Horror. Nothing that could have explained what Sam had been talking about.

"Okay," I murmured aloud, pressing the back button. "How about this?" I braced myself and typed in the words 'Quileute wolves.' The first link was titled 'Shape-Shifters.' I stared at the words on the screen blankly, thinking to myself, 'this is absolutely insane; what am I even doing? Why do I even care?'

Instead of doing further research, I went back a page and backspaced my search. In its place I typed, 'Quileute Imprint.'

In the end, I wish I had left it all alone and never tried to sate my curiosity because I just felt worse after I was finished. The words 'soul mate' and 'intimate' and 'profound bond' and 'love' popped out at me several times as I scrolled, my eyes scanning the information almost robotically and my heart sinking with every word I saw.

It was impossible, and yet…

Absently, I reached down and touched the scars on my torso – ' _may feel unspeakable pain.'_

No, no, no, no…

Outside, a wolf howled somewhere far in the distance, and I knew.

I knew.

I knew.

 _I knew._

oOo

In the trees outside of the home of Katherine Montgomery, while the rain continued to fall from the dreary sky, a silver wolf mourned.

oOo

 _Next Time:_ _burning heat, missed school opportunities, Leah's plan, Isaac takes control, and a secret meeting in a warehouse in the slums of Chicago._


	20. The Boy with the Many Questions

_These chapters were extremely difficult to crank out just because I don't really like doing this to my favorite characters (or my own OC's), but I suffered through it for all of you. Ugh; I swear things will get better for Paul and Audrey soon! Maybe._

 _Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who celebrates it, and have a wonderful Thursday to anyone who doesn't! If you're like me and you have to deal with a bunch of judgmental relatives, good luck._

oOo

Chapter 20:

 _"The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things you do for others remain as your legacy." - Kalu Ndukwe Kalu_

 _Exhausted, sweaty, and starving, Isaac Perdue waved goodbye to two of his teammates and trotted up the sidewalk to the heavy glass doors leading up to his apartment building, stopping only momentarily to swipe his key card into the slot near the door that would grant him entrance. It had been a long day full of excitement and, if his sister asked, 'learning,' and all Isaac wanted was to go raid the refrigerator and have a hot shower. The air in the lobby was cold and the floors were polished to perfection, but Isaac didn't feel bad about letting his muddy cleats ruin the pristine tile._

 _"Hey Mr. Jones," he automatically greeted the elderly security guard at the security desk as he headed in the direction of the elevators. "How's it going?"_

 _The old man greeted him with a smile and a nod. "Same old, same old, Isaac. How was school? Still making good grades?"_

" _Same old, same old," Isaac copied him with a grin, coming to a stop in front of the desk. "You know how it is. One day at a prep school is the same as all the rest; those people are just absolutely crazy. Is there any mail today?"_

" _As a matter of fact, there is," said the man, putting down his book and rolling back to dig under the marble desk. He pulled out a small package wrapped in generic brown paper, tossing several white envelopes on top of it. "A man - his ID said he worked for the Justice Department with your sister, some guy named Frank Holloway or something – said this was for your sister. He claimed it was urgent that she have it immediately, but I told him that your sister hasn't been back since she left for the office this morning."_

 _Seeing nothing strange about the package – after all, his sister got packages all the time from various people she worked with – he pulled the mail toward him and tucked it all under his arm. "Never heard the name before, but Audrey works with so many people that I can never really keep track of them all. I'll just leave it on the table in our apartment and she'll deal with it later."_

 _Mr. Jones waved Isaac away. "Do with it what you will," he said gruffly. "Now you go on upstairs and get your homework done so your sister doesn't get on your case."_

 _Isaac laughed. "She's always on my case," and they exchanged a knowing glance when Isaac headed toward the elevator once more, "but she means well."_

 _The elevator doors slid open and shut with a ding, and Isaac patiently leaned against the wall with the mail tucked under his arm. The machine slid to a stop at the fourth floor and he stepped out into a carpeted hallway where the walls were painted a bleached white. Walking to the end of the hall to apartment 4D, Isaac dug his key out of his pocket and pushed open the door._

 _The apartment was empty and quiet, but Isaac was used to the silence. His sister was always working and Luke was usually in daycare until Audrey picked him up after she left work. Tossing the mail and package on the table next to his backpack, he picked up a small sheet of white paper that held his sister's looping cursive._

' _Isaac,' it read. 'Working late tonight with consultation for the FBI because of the De Palma case; Monique won't be able to pick up Luke today, so can you pick him up for 5:30? Left you some money for cab-fare; leftovers are in the fridge. Love you! ~Audrey'_

 _Isaac glanced at the clock – 4:32 – and realized that he might as well call the cab company now if he wanted to be on time to pick up his nephew. Quickly dialing the number scribbled out on the bottom of Audrey's note, Isaac ordered a cab to be at his apartment sometime within the next half hour, then trudged through the apartment to his bathroom to take a quick shower._

 _He whistled as he dried himself off, throwing on a T-Shirt and an old pair of jeans. Grabbing a slice of cold pizza out of the box that was shoved haphazardly in the fridge, he collapsed at the kitchen table and casually dug through the mail. Nothing important, he noted – mostly just bills and other letters for his sister – but hidden at the very back of the stack was a single letter addressed to him._

 _Isaac rarely received mail and if he did it was usually junk, but the official-looking insignia on the front of the envelope made him stop in mid-chew. He had been waiting for this letter – though he had originally assumed it would come in an email and not in a physical letter. He was just lucky that he had picked up the mail today and not his sister, considering that he hadn't even told her his plan in case his 'shot in the dark' didn't pan out the way he wanted it to._

 _Heart racing, Isaac stared at the 'Carnegie Mellon University' logo before ripping into the envelope, quickly skimming down to the actual message._

' _Mr. Perdue,' it began. "'We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into our 'Twenty Under Twenty to Watch' High School Engineering Program for this upcoming Summer. Based on your accomplishments to date, your applicant essay, and current transcripts, you surpass our academic standards and are eligible to attend –"_

 _Isaac didn't even finish reading the rest of the letter. Instead he let out a shout of happiness, hands shaking in his excitement. "Fuck yes! Oh, my God, I can't believe it! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit – I have to – I have to – OH MY GOD!" He looked around expectantly as if someone would appear out of thin air for him to tell, but there was no one, so Isaac just decided to grab his bag and race toward the elevator to tell the only person who was possibly available to listen to at the moment – Mr. Jones._

 _He squeezed through the elevator doors before they had even opened. "Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones!" he shouted, ignoring the strange looks that he received from the rest of the people in the lobby as he came to a stop in front of the security desk._

 _The old man jumped, staring at him in surprise. "Boy, don't you know you're not supposed to run in lobbies?"_

 _Isaac ignored his words. "Look!" he exclaimed, shoving the papers in the man's face. "I got accepted! I applied to Carnegie Mellon's High School Engineering Summer Program and they accepted me!"_

 _Mr. Jones peered critically at the paper, his eyes lighting up as he read the words. "Well, congratulations! Seems like a big deal, isn't it? That's a good school. Is that where you want to –"_

 _And then… something happened. It started out as an explosive sound – like a wrecking ball flying into the side of a building. Then the ground under their feet started to rumble and shake until it all went still – then a harsh creaking sound coming from somewhere above their heads and a terrifying shout of 'FIRE!'_

 _CRACK! Something above their heads had shattered and tiny bits of ceiling tile came raining down onto the floor. Screams echoed through the hall as a sudden wave of people ran from the emergency stairwell, sirens beeping loudly in his ears._

 _A heavy hand shoved at his shoulder and Isaac lost his footing, stumbling to the floor. His palms scraped against a piece of broken tile, making him wince. The letter in his hands went flying across the floor and under the desk, but just as he reached out to snatch it up, Mr. Jones grabbed his shoulder and hauled him to his feet. "Go, Isaac! Towards the exit!"_

 _With a last pathetic glimpse at the lost envelope, Isaac merged with the crowd and hurried toward the door._

 _Outside, the streets were in chaos. People were leaning out of their windows in the buildings on the other side of the street, or slowing down in their cars to catch a glimpse of the action. Smoke was beginning to billow above the building, flying into the sky, and the windows of several apartments on the fourth floor had been blown out. He could hear the distant sound of firetruck sirens as they sped in Isaac's direction, and flames were licking the curtains surrounding a very familiar window._

 _The fire was coming from_ _his_ _apartment._

oOo

With the foggy darkness of the night on her side and the cover of the trees to aid her on her quest, Leah Clearwater ran swiftly through the forest in her hometown and struggled to organize her thoughts.

It had been almost three months since what had come to be known between the pack members as 'The Incident,' and nothing had been the same since Katherine Montgomery discovered the reservation's best kept secret. Old Man Winter had swept through the city with an unrelenting vengeance; the days seemed to drag by for everyone and the sky seemed a little darker each morning.

No one was really surprised when Sam came back from Katherine's home that day so many months ago with the confirmation that she didn't want to see any of them again, least of all Paul, but Sam gave his verdict with a grain of salt. "Give her a bit of time," he had said, "and she'll come back." They held out hope for ages, but then the days turned into weeks that turned into excruciating months, and most of the pack had resigned themselves to living with a depressed Paul for all eternity. Not a very healthy way to live, but it was all that they had at the moment.

Boy, did they struggle with it, too. Leah thought back to the events over the last few weeks as the pack attempted (and failed) to move on and their efforts to pretend that everything was normal. All failures. How could they function when one of their own was in pain? How could they move on when there was a perpetual storm cloud hanging over their heads at every moment? The answer was simple: they couldn't. They struggled, but at the same time, there was only so much that each of them could take before they drove themselves absolutely insane with Paul's grief.

In a normal situation, Leah probably would have found this humorous. The idea that Paul Lahote the former manwhore was actually heartbroken over a woman could have been laughable – if this were another time without crazy things happening around them. But now it was just… _sad._ It hurt to look at him. It hurt to hear his thoughts. It hurt to be _near him_.

And the worst part… was that Paul _struggled_ to pretend that everything was _normal._

Leah felt that she would feel a lot better if Paul was milking this thing for all that it was worth. If he spent the days moping around outside Katherine's house, snapping at people in his bad moods, and spread his anger and sadness on everyone else; if he locked himself away from the rest of them or spent all of his time running away or something equally as dramatic… Leah thought that it would be easier for everyone to deal with if Paul just _snapped_ and fought with someone, but in a way that was completely out of character, he didn't.

Instead, to all of their surprise, Paul was just… _nothing._ He pretended as if there wasn't anything wrong – as if Katherine hadn't even existed in the first place. Once Sam came back with the news from Katherine, he continued with life as if everything was normal. He went to Emily's place when she struggled to keep normalcy in their lives by cooking a big meal; he played with the new baby like the rest of the pack; he went over to Jared's with Sam when the Seahawks were playing; he ran patrol at his normal time.

But he wasn't _himself._

There wasn't anything that any of them could do, so they let Paul do whatever it was that he wanted and waited for him to blow up in their faces. He never did; at least, not yet. Leah wasn't sure if she would have just preferred to have him yell at them all the time, because at least she could have fought back, but how were you supposed to fight back against someone that had already admitted defeat? Because that's exactly what this was: defeat. He had simply given up because not only did Katherine not want him near her, he didn't _want_ to be near her.

Well, maybe that was a stretch. He wanted to be near her, of course, but if she didn't want him, he would be damned if he went and begged her to take him back as – well, as whatever they previously were. No, Leah knew that Paul wasn't stupid. He had almost killed her, and he was afraid that he would do it again. That's why he was staying away. He was _afraid._ He felt that he didn't deserve to be near her anymore - that the pain he was feeling now was a fantastic punishment for what he had done.

On the outside it was easy for him to hide how he was feeling, but each member of the pack dreaded patrolling with him. His thoughts were just… _awful_. Dark. Enough to make even the happiest person feel like the world was ending. There was just so much anger and self-loathing and pain and fear and sadness that the only three people who could actually stand to listen to his thoughts for more than a few hours were Leah, Sam, and Jared.

No one was really sure what to do. Was there anything they _could_ do? Nothing short of forcibly locking Katherine and Paul in a room together and not letting them out until they sorted out their problems, but Leah highly doubted that situation would end well.

So they waited for the situation to resolve itself.

And waited.

And waited.

And _waited –_

But now, Leah was tired of waiting.

The Uley home was dimly lit and Leah could vaguely hear the sound of crying coming from somewhere within. She phased and dressed in the clothes that were tied around her ankle, stomping determinedly up the driveway with mud caked at her heels. The door opened before she even reached the porch, revealing Sam Uley with a small, grumbling bundle of blankets in his hands. "Shouldn't you be on patrol?" he asked quietly.

"Jared took over for me," she answered simply. "I needed to talk to you. It's important."

Sam simply nodded and stepped aside to allow Leah into the house, the dark bags under his eyes making him look much older than he actually was. "Just keep quiet. Emily's sleeping."

"She actually left you on baby duty by yourself?" Leah asked, casually going to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "I'm shocked."

Sam pursed his lips, protectively cradling his son to his chest as the baby gradually fell back to sleep. "I know how to take care of a baby, Leah."

"Well congratulations," she said, pulling out a seat at the table. "But your fatherly skills aren't the reason for this little visit. We need to talk about Paul."

Sam's face visibly darkened but he didn't look surprised. "Give me a second to go put Takoda in his bassinet. Then we'll talk."

Leah watched her ex-fiancé retreat from the room and up the stairs. The wood creaked under his weight but he didn't seem to notice, probably too used to the noise for it to even register with him. Either that, or he was too exhausted to care.

Sam returned empty-handed almost immediately after he disappeared and he sat across from Leah at the table. Running a hand over his eyes in a gesture that she recognized immediately after years of being around him, Sam sighed. "Alright. What do you have to say about Paul?"

She leaned back in her chair and raised an eyebrow, arms across her chest. "I think you already know what I'm going to say. Something has to be done, Sam. He can't keep going on like this; he's going to drive himself insane."

"I don't have a lot of options here, Leah," he replied. "What do you propose that we do?"

"Something," she said. "Anything. She has to be feeling it, right? The imprint? She has to be feeling just as terrible as he is. Why hasn't she at least started looking for answers or something?"

"How do we know she hasn't?" Sam pointed out. "How do we know for a fact that she hasn't searched for answers elsewhere or come to her own conclusions? Look, Leah, Katherine is a very independent person and, well, she's terrified. Having any of us go over there to confront her would just make it worse."

"Are you two talking about Katherine?"

Both Sam and Leah looked up. Emily had appeared at the top of the staircase, tying a tattered robe around her body. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes as she slowly trailed down the steps, coming to a stop beside her husband. "You should be sleeping," Sam scolded.

Emily ignored him. "Are you talking about confronting her? Because I don't think that's a good idea. From what Kim told me, her reaction to any of you showing up at her door won't be very pleasant."

Sam turned back to Leah. "Emily's right. We have to let her come to him, because God knows he doesn't want to go near her right now."

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's not quick enough. Something needs to be done _now._ You don't have to patrol with him, Sam. Jared and I can't deal with listening to his thoughts anymore."

Sam and Emily exchanged a knowing glance. "What do you propose that we do, then?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, Leah begrudgingly answered, "Let me go over there and talk to her. Maybe I can convince her to listen to me."

But Sam was already shaking his head. "No, absolutely not. I'm not going to put another one of my pack members at risk just because of Paul's imprint."

"Just hear me out for a second," Leah said, on the edge of her seat as she began to explain her plan. "She can't stand any of you, right? She's scared of you, hesitant, whatever - not only because of the wolf thing but because you're, you know, _men._ And with what we've heard from Paul, I don't blame her for being so wary around all of you." They all grimaced. "And with Emily and Kim… well, they're weak. Katherine would stomp all over them." There was a pause as Sam gave her a dirty look. "No offense," she added as an afterthought to Emily.

Sam opened his mouth to say something but Emily cut him off, obviously understanding Leah's line of thought. "But you're just like her. You think that she might listen to you because you two are both –"

"Damaged," Leah finished, giving them both a bitter smile. "Scorned. Put whatever name you want on it, but I'm like her in that aspect. So are you in some ways," she said, gesturing to Emily, "but I won't back down from a fight with her. I'm not afraid of offending her or saying the wrong thing, and as far as we know, she doesn't know that I'm in the pack, too."

Silence.

"It's the only plan that we have," Leah added sternly. "If you have a better idea, I'll be happy to hear it."

Sam looked up at his wife, who shrugged. "She's got a point, Sam."

Finally, after exchanging a glance with both women, Sam nodded. "Fine. Just give it another few days before you barge over there. And be careful; don't press the issue too much. You don't want her to avoid us out of spite just because you decide to get cocky."

Sam and Emily didn't move until long after Leah had left. Emily placed a hand on her husband's shoulder when Sam placed his head in his hands. "It'll be okay. Leah's smart. She won't let this go until Katherine hears her out."

"Why are you so confident that this will work?"

Emily paused, frowning. "Because it has to."

oOo

The weather was unrelenting. Autumn turned to winter faster than the eye could perceive, even though the days seemed to drag on painfully slow. It was the kind of bitter winter that could only be found in the Northwest – where the snow was scarce along the grass but there was ice _everywhere._ It was on the roofs of houses, on the streets and on the grass, on the leaves of the trees, and stuck to the windows of both cars and houses.

If the days were dark and overcast then the nights were cloudy and biting. It drizzled constantly and stormed every other day, making the already freezing air feel colder than it actually was. It was an iciness that stiffened the palms, sunk deep within the bones, and turned the nose red – a miserable bitterness that just couldn't be soothed with a cup of cocoa or a crackling fireplace.

Time dragged onward. Slowly. Painfully. Draining the energy out of the body and making it so that even climbing out of bed was difficult.

The world just felt… dull.

Climbing out of bed on another dreadfully dreary day, Isaac Perdue stretched and made his way across the hall to make sure that Luke was already awake – as had been part of his daily morning ritual over the last few months. The little boy was already awake and struggling to button his shirt, so Isaac knelt in front of him to fix the last few buttons. "Ready for school today?"

"No," Luke replied glumly. "I don't want to go to school today."

 _Me neither,_ thought Isaac. "I know you don't, kiddo, but we have to. You want to grow up smart and learn things, don't you?"

"No."

Well then. "Well, I hate to break it to you," he replied, ruffling the young boy's hair, "but you don't really have any other choice."

Something in his eyes glistened and Isaac prayed that Luke wouldn't start crying. "When's mommy going to get better?" he asked, lip trembling.

The subject of Audrey's – well, her mental health had been a taboo subject lately. Isaac had known that something was wrong ever since her panic attack at the hospital, but she refused to tell him what made her react like that around Kim and Jared. He knew it was only a matter of time before Luke started asking questions, too. The boy wasn't stupid; after all, it wasn't difficult to see that something was seriously wrong with Audrey and Isaac wasn't surprised that Luke was concerned. The guardian that they had both once known had turned into an empty shell of herself. Sure, she acted like everything was normal and happy, but she wasn't completely… _there._

"I don't know."

Luke's expression turned urgent and panicked, as if the very thought of his mother being ill made him panic. "Well what's wrong with her?"

"I don't _know_. I –" Tears had started to fall down Luke's cheeks, and Isaac sighed and knelt back on the floor. A hand went on each of Luke's shoulders, and Isaac reached out to wipe the tears away from his nephew's face. "Would it make you feel better if I spend the day trying to figure out if we can get her back to normal?"

The little boy nodded in misery, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket.

"Okay, I will." The plan had been formulating in Isaac's mind for days now; he just hadn't had a proper time to implement it. Today seemed as good of a day as any, and if he had to skip school to do it, then so be it. "I'll try and figure out what's going on while you're in school, but you still have to pay attention to your teacher and do your work."

He nodded again, and Isaac picked him up and cradled him in his arms, trotting down the stairs to the kitchen. Audrey was already sitting at the table like she always was, full cup of coffee that had long since gone cold clutched in her hands. She stared out the window absent-mindedly, sporting her bathrobe, pajamas, and a horrible case of bedhead even though Isaac knew that she probably didn't get any sleep.

He had half a mind just to sneak past the kitchen and head out the door, but the keys to his truck were on the kitchen table and there was no chance of escaping his sister's keen eye. Audrey glanced up when he entered the room and he saw a phantom expression of pure suffering on her face before it went blank, turning into something bland and generic. "Morning, boys. Off to school?"

Isaac snatched up his keys, ignoring the way Luke's fingers curled in his shirt. "Yeah, about to head out. We'll see you when we get back, okay?"

"Mm." She nodded, thoughts already far away. "Good luck on your test today - don't you have one in Math?"

The math test was yesterday, but Isaac didn't point that out to her. "Yeah, I think I'll do okay," Isaac mumbled under his breath, shoving open the front door. "See you when school let's out."

The drive to the school was silent, and Isaac dropped off Luke at the elementary school without a word. Instead of heading to the High School, however, he turned the truck around and headed right back to La Push, past his house and to the home of Sam and Emily Uley. He took a deep breath when he pulled up in the driveway, not sure what he was going to say and struggling to come up with an excuse for why he was there.

In fact, all Isaac really knew was that there was something wrong with his sister and Sam Uley had something to do with it. After all, why else would he have been sitting on their porch the day that Audrey was brought home from the hospital? Sam knew something – maybe even the rest of the people of La Push. Was that why Audrey had been so adamant that they cut all ties? Did she know something that he didn't?

Climbing out of the truck and putting his feet on the damp ground, Isaac awkwardly shuffled back and forth on his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. The steps leading up to the house creaked under his heels, and Isaac blew in his hands to fight off the cold. Hesitating only half a second, Isaac rapped his knuckles lightly against the door.

It didn't take long for the door to swing open, but instead of the hulking form of Sam filling the doorway, it was a tired-looking Emily. Her eyes went wide when she realized who it was. "Aiden? What on earth are you doing here?"

"Uh…" He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "I actually wanted to speak with Sam, if he's around."

Emily studied him intently before stepping aside, opening the door wider to allow him inside. "He should be back soon but you're more than welcome to come in while you wait – get out of the cold and all." She paused. "And I highly doubt that you want your sister accidentally figuring out that you're skipping school."

"Yeah," he said with a chuckle. "She would kill me if she knew I was here right now." Too late did he realize his mistake, because Emily tensed as soon as the words were out of his mouth. An awkward silence settled over the two but Isaac pressed forward, slowly pulling out a chair at the table when Emily gestured for him to do so. "How's – uh, how's Takoda doing since you brought him home?"

"He's good." Emily gave him a tired smile. She lit one of the burners on the stove and placed a kettle over the flame, if only to give her hands something to do. "Sleeping upstairs right now. It's hard getting him to sleep through the night, but we're managing."

Isaac wasn't surprised. He remembered that Audrey had spent many sleepless nights pacing through their dilapidated apartment, trying to soothe a crying Luke at all hours of the night. "I'm glad," he said sincerely, wringing his hands. "I'm sure you make a great mom."

"Well, I try," she wryly replied. Then, after a pause, "Why are you here, Aiden? Besides just talking to Sam. You know your sister doesn't want you around us anymore."

"I just thought that…" What could he tell Emily? She probably wouldn't understand, would she? It wasn't as if she had seen Audrey recently – or at least, she hadn't seen what Audrey had become. "Something is seriously wrong with my sister and I – I don't have anywhere else to go." And just like that, the words came rolling off of his tongue. "She hasn't been the same since she was attacked by that stupid bear and I don't know what to do. She's not sleeping, she barely eats anything, and she – I can tell she's struggling to put on a good face but she just keeps getting worse and I don't have anyone else to go to. We haven't heard anything from Paul in over three months so I can't go to him, our family friend is all the way on the other side of the country and I can't _do anything to help my sister!_ I know that whatever's wrong with her has something to do with you guys – that's the only explanation I can think of for why she wanted to avoid all of you - but I just can't figure out _what changed her._ "

Isaac's chest was heaving when he finished his rant, fists clenched tightly. Emily stared at him, unsure what to say, but as it turned out, she didn't have to say anything. A shadow had blocked out the sun at the front door – Sam. From the look on his face, he had heard everything that Isaac had said. "Tell him," Sam stated.

Emily's eyes widened again. "What? Sam, are you sure that's a good idea?"

He nodded once. "Call Jacob; get him to bring Billy over here so he can help explain. We need to tell him."

"Tell me what?" Isaac questioned.

Both Sam and Emily looked entirely too grim. "The truth."

oOo

In an abandoned office building in downtown Chicago, tucked between a steel factory and a broken down apartment complex, Frankie De Palma sat against the cracked walls with peeling paint and stared at the closed door across the room. The night wasn't silent. Through the broken glass of the window he could hear the various noises that came with a Chicago night – gunshots, dogs barking, car alarms… a symphony of chaos.

He loved it.

Frankie had been waiting in that abandoned building for over twenty minutes, much longer than he expected, but he wasn't exactly in a rush. The air was cool and didn't smell foul in this place, even if it was a bit stale… and dusty, he realized, scowling down at the piles of dust and cobwebs crowding the corners of the room.

Even though this place was better than that shithole he had been hiding out in for the past few weeks, he wasn't really sure why he was in that place at that exact moment. For all he knew, this could have been some sort of trap to have him arrested – God only knows how many feds the government had on his tail – but he had a good feeling about this, even if he didn't actually know the identity of his source. He had been at a dead end for weeks – his ultimate target had disappeared without a trace thanks to the damn Marshall Service – and this would really be his only lead to that bitch, Audrey Perdue.

There was too much invested in this to back down now – too much effort put into the search by both himself and his colleagues. His hands tightened against the handle of the gun in his grasp. He wouldn't give up – couldn't give up. He would have her eventually, and oh, how he would love to see the life leave her eyes the moment he ended her life.

Sweet, sweet victory.

His eyes flickered upward as there came a loud creak from behind the door and a subsequent beat of silence. There was someone there; he could see a flash of the person's shadow under the crack of the door, but he didn't move a muscle. Instead he stared, blank, absent, and just the tiniest bit curious to see the identity of his contact.

The door slowly swung open, giving a creak that was almost deafening in the quiet of the room. In stepped a tall figure dressed mostly in black, a hood hiding her face in shadow – because yes, it _was_ a female. He could tell by the curves of her hips in her pants and the way she held herself. When she opened her mouth he could see bright white teeth, and her voice was low and almost seductive.

"I'm surprised you even showed up," she said. "Can't believe you got my message and deemed it worth the effort."

He didn't speak, but he continued to observe. She looked nervous and she had every reason to be. From the brief glimpses of her eyes beneath the hood he could see her gaze flash back and forth to his face and the gun held lazily in his hands. He could kill her without a second thought and think nothing of it, and her body wouldn't be found in ages if he just left it here. But… he was curious to see how this played out, so he kept the gun pointed down at the floor and waited for her to speak again.

"Down to business then?" she asked bitterly, hovering in the doorframe. "Alright then. You need information; I have it. Or I can get it, at least. I want to make a deal."

"How do I know you aren't just lying to me?" he asked wearily.

"You don't," she admitted after a moment. "But I'm not."

"Then I should just kill you now and get it over with," he lazily waved around his gun. "No problem."

"You would regret it," she replied without missing a beat. "If you kill me, you'll never receive your information."

"And what are you getting out of this?" His eyes narrowed. "You say you have information for me, and I know it won't come for free."

She pulled out a manila file from under her thick coat, tossed it to the floor, and kicked it in his direction with her foot. It came to rest by his pant leg, and on the outside of the file was a small picture bearing what he was sure was an Identification photo of an unfamiliar woman. "I want you to get rid of someone for me. Someone who's been a thorn in my side for much too long."

He raised an eyebrow. "Heavy price for just a bit of information that may not even be accurate. Are you too scared to do it yourself?"

Under the hood, he could see the woman sneer. "I prefer to keep my hands clean. Besides, once she dies then I'll be able to have access to what you want. It's a win-win situation."

He glanced down at the file once more, contemplative. "Oh? And what will you give me if I kill this woman?"

"I can give you the location of Audrey Perdue."

oOo

 _Next Time: proof of the big secret, Leah's intervention and subsequent mistake, and the wrath of a mother frightened for her kids._


	21. The Intervention of the She-Wolf

_Exams are over and I am officially on break! I had three exams back to back (my hardest ones, of course) on Tuesday so I spent the weekend studying instead of writing. Now that the Christmas holidays are here, I finally have time to sit down and actually write Paul and Audrey's story! I have the rest of their little tale planned out, but it has yet to actually be put into words, so this break is going to be spent writing!_

 _Best of luck to the rest of you who are dealing with exams and the upcoming stress of the holidays!_

Chapter 21:

 _"You are not Atlas carrying the world on your shoulder. It is good to remember that the planet is carrying you." - Vandana Shiva_

"So… what you're basically telling me is that…" Isaac shifted uncomfortably in his chair as the four people around him exchanged glances. He was a bit unsettled at having people stare at him so intently, but he struggled to keep his cool. "Because of something in your genetics that goes way back to before colonial times, you guys have the ability to turn into a bunch of mythological creatures on a daily basis… all because of a family of vampires that lives in Forks."

"Yes."

"Shape-shifters. Like actual, real-life werewolves."

"Uh huh."

"On top of that, there's something called an imprint, which is what's making my sister act so weird." He wrinkled his nose, brow furrowing in confusion. "Some weird-ass cosmic connection that she has with Paul that makes them – what, soul mates? And… and Paul was the one who hurt her, not a bear, because he was so upset at what she had told him about how she had been –" He cut himself off, fingers struggling to go through his tangled hair. "And the only reason that you all know about it is because you heard it in Paul's thoughts – because that's apparently a thing you guys can do."

"Yeah, basically."

"And now, Leah Clearwater, a woman that I've been told has no tact whatsoever, is on her way to my house to try and talk some sense into my sister. To stage a – what, an intervention or something? For what? To get her to talk to Paul again?"

"That about sums it up."

Isaac buried his head in his hands and slumped in his seat, utterly overwhelmed by the ridiculous information he was receiving. Struggling to stay in his spot and not bolt out of the door, he asked, "Why are you even telling me about his stuff? Shouldn't this be some sort of sacred tribal secret that you have to keep from outsiders?"

Billy was the one to answer, the wheels of his chair rolling across the floor in Isaac's direction. "Your sister is Paul's imprint, Aiden, which makes her a part of the pack. That extends to you and Thomas as well. Granted, we don't usually tell people the whole story under circumstances like this," Behind him, Jacob and Sam exchanged a glance, "but I suppose that desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Right." Isaac had heard enough; it was time for him to get the hell out of there and head home as fast as humanly possible to give an apology to his sister. "Well," he drawled, roughly shoving back his chair and pulling on his jacket. "This was fun, but, uh, you guys are fucking crazy so I'm just going to go and not come back."

Emily stood and moved around the table, appearing sympathetic as she placed a gentle hand on his arm to stop him from leaving. "Aiden, I know that this is difficult to believe, but you need to understand –"

He yanked his arm away a bit harsher than he meant to. After all, he liked Emily – he was just a bit… freaked out at the moment. But just because he liked them didn't mean that they weren't completely nuts. "No, you guys need to understand that you need to check yourself into a mental institution," he said. "First of all, what you're talking about is biologically impossible. It can't happen. End of story. Secondly, I don't know what you guys think Leah can do, but with the way that Katherine has been acting lately, I wouldn't be surprised if she chews Leah up and spits her into a thousand tiny pieces. My sister is – " he hesitated. "She isn't well, but that doesn't mean she won't fight back if she feels like she's been backed into a corner. Like a… like a caged animal."

"We have to do something," said Jacob. "You want your sister to get better, don't you?"

"Of course I do," he shot back. "Of course I want her to get better, but whatever is wrong with her doesn't have anything to do with – with…" The looks on the faces of the four people in front of him were so open and honest that he let his voice trail off. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore. I don't know if I can trust any of you."

Sam rested a heavy hand on his shoulder; he could feel the heat through his clothes. "You don't have to take our word on it. We can prove it."

oOo

The universe is a strange place. People are even stranger.

There are people in the world that put ice in their cereal, periodically check their refrigerators even though they know that no snacks have materialized in the half hour since they last looked, and even after a waiter has told them that a plate is hot, they still have to check for themselves. There are people who talk to themselves and some who answer themselves; there are those who can't go to sleep without triple-checking their alarm clocks and have to match their shoes with their shirts. Some people stay in the same job for forty years and some choose to switch careers on a whim when they get bored. People flinch at the sound of nails on a chalkboard but love the startling sound of thunder; they run away from insects but will willingly shove their faces into bug-filled flowers.

We all have those little quirks that make others give us strange looks - those unexplainable habits that we have no explanation for - but how is it possible that so much of the human population loves to dwell on the unknown? We ignore the facts and focus on the unexplained because we love unanswered questions. Some things in this world can never be explained – those things which make us curious by nature only because they are mysterious and unexplainable. What happened to the lost city of Atlantis? What was the original purpose of Stonehenge? Do aliens exist? Is God real? Is heaven? What about hell? Are ghosts real?

Are monsters?

These are all questions that we will probably never know the answers to, but we still love to think about them because… well, who knows why we love the unexplained? All of our weird habits and thoughts of the unexplained go back to a basic part of our evolution that craves answers. Maybe most of the human population is just a bunch of masochists.

But each of these questions has been answered – the answer may not have been proven, it may be heavily debated, and it may not be correct, but there are people out there who have proposed answers to the world's most difficult questions. Except one – a question which cannot be answered by scientists or philosophers, by medical professionals or psychologists:

How is it possible for the heart to hold so much?

The answer, which has plagued the world for centuries, now became clear to me. The truth is that the heart cannot hold much at all. Once it reaches its limit, feelings burst forward like a tidal wave, emerging from the body in bouts of rage or joy or terror or sadness. The question, I now realized, didn't involve how much the heart could hold. Instead, the question should have been: How much can the heart hold before it bursts?

The answer? Not much. As had become very clear over the last three months, the heart couldn't hold much at all.

Still in my pajamas and curled up on the sofa with a computer on my lap, I scrolled through a series of news articles that were making me feel worse than I already was. A permanent headache pounded in my skull as I scanned through the headlines. "Mob Boss De Palma Still at Large" and "Authorities Baffled" and "No Leads" and "FBI Receiving Criticisms from Concerned Citizens." It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. How could one man cause so much trouble for so many people?

Slamming the laptop shut with an angry huff, I shut my eyes and roughly rubbed at my temples. Yet another problem on my already lengthy list of things I needed to worry about. But, in retrospect, those problems were all the way on the other side of the country. While they were important, maybe they didn't necessarily hold precedent over more pertinent issues. Like my own physical wellbeing, for example.

On the rare moments that my brain actually settled down enough for me to sleep, my dreams were haunted by nightmares. Most food wouldn't stay down and everything tasted the same – bland. Constant headaches that felt like my skull was splitting in two separate pieces. Chest pains that felt like my heart was being torn to pieces. Lungs that chose to stop functioning correctly that made it hard to breathe. Complete exhaustion. Always distracted, thoughts never settling, a permanent sadness that came from nowhere and just burst through my nervous system. Something was seriously wrong with me and I refused – _refused_ – to believe that it had anything to do with Paul.

Or that… that _thing_ called an imprint.

I had pieced together my own conclusions over the last few months, calling together my own knowledge, the things that people have said, the story that Billy Black had told so long ago, and some basic internet research that basically made my skin crawl. Overall, I had concluded five things:

1) Werewolves and vampires existed and La Push was full of them. I didn't know who, exactly, was a werewolf or a vampire, but I knew enough to make an educated guess and pinpoint the ones with this… what would you even call it? A skill? A disease? I didn't know, but I did know that they were apparently _everywhere_ , and it frightened me to think about how long I had been right in the monster's lair never even knowing the danger surrounding me.

2) It had something to do with their ancestry – at least, if the stories were to be believed. Something in their genetics that traced back all the way to one person – the former Quileute chief. Something was wrong in their genetic tree that caused this… weird mutation. And no one seemed to have any problem with it, acting as if it was _normal._

3) There was a really weird thing called an imprint that apparently existed, and it somehow involved Paul and myself. He had… imprinted on me? Was that the term that Sam had used? I didn't fully understand what it was, but I had concluded enough to know that I didn't want to touch that mess with a forty-foot pole.

4) Imprinting was… scary. Messy. Controlling. Overbearing and possessive and positively dangerous. Something that no sane person would ever want. One article I read had described it as being unconditionally bound to another person for the rest of your life – some profound connection that is, according to legend, the way that the Quileute werewolves found their soul mates. No. Not going to happen. It was sick and disgusting and… and almost _abusive_ in some ways that it was described. I mean, who in their right mind would want to be tied to one person by some cosmic power that dictates the person you're supposed to be with without any input from the parties involved? That's right. No one. And all of those arguments about fate were bullshit.

5) As a matter of fact, it was _all_ a bunch of fucking bullshit.

And yet…

If it was any other situation, I would have self-diagnosed myself with a case of Stockholm Syndrome. But it wasn't really any other situation and my physical pain was much too real to stem from something that was _fake._ Right? Or maybe I was just a fucking idiot. I don't know. It was a tossup at this point.

But the problem was… would I really have to spend the rest of my life being so miserable because I had shunned one person?

As it was, I would never find out, if only because of an unwelcome visitor that came to the house at around noon.

 _BANG BANG BANG._ "KATHERINE, OPEN THIS GODDAMN DOOR BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN!"

I nearly jumped half a foot in the air at the sudden sound of Leah screaming on the other side of the front door. I hadn't heard anything from the La Push pack or anyone that dared to associate with them in months, so Leah's voice was difficult to immediately recognize until I peeked hesitantly through the peephole. _Oh, fuck,_ I thought. _What the hell is she doing here?_ "Go away, Leah!" I called back, leaning against the door as if to keep it shut by sheer will.

"I'm not leaving until you open the door and talk to me! I'll stand outside your house all goddamn day if I have to!"

I knew that she wouldn't hesitate to follow through on her threat if she felt the need to do so, so I tried a different tactic. "If you don't leave now, I'll call the police and have you arrested for trespassing and loitering."

There was a snort of derision – or maybe it was amusement. "Good luck with that. My mom is dating the Chief of Police so he won't arrest me."

She was lying. She had to be lying. It wasn't possible that these people actually had their claws locked into every person in this stupid city. Was that how they had gotten away with things for so long? Because they even had law enforcement covering their tracks? "I'm not opening the door."

"Oh?" Her tone was daring; almost… menacing, in a way that told me she knew more than I did. "Are you really sure you don't want to open the door? I mean, if I were you and I had no idea where my brother was, I'd kind of want to find out."

Now _that_ caught my attention much more than it should have. I shoved open the door so harshly that it banged against the outside wall of the house, nearly smacking directly into Leah's shoulder. I was sure I was a hilarious sight in my bathrobe, hair wild, several inches shorter than Leah, and probably not half as threatening, but the sudden way I stalked toward her, shoving my finger in her direction in a way so psychotic and manic, made her take several small steps back in surprise. " _Where's my brother?_ " I snapped, the thought of Isaac being taken away a horrifying thought at the forefront of my mind. " _What did you do to him? If you hurt my boys I swear to God I will kill you!_ "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" It was clear that Leah's words didn't have the desired effect, so she immediately began to backtrack. "Aiden is fine, they're both fine! Thomas is at school apparently, but Aiden skipped. He came to us of his own free will, completely worried about you and with nowhere else to go." She shrugged casually, but her eyes didn't stray from my frantic posture. "Smart kid. Had absolutely no idea what was going on but had enough sense to know that we had something to do with it."

With those words, I suddenly realized two things: Leah's use of the words 'we' and 'us' confirmed one of my worst suspicions, showing me just how much she knew about the situation. She was one of them. I could see it now, completely clear like it was written all over her face _._ "Oh, God, you're one of them, aren't you?" I said in realization, using the frame of the door to support myself before I collapsed.

She winced, but didn't really look apologetic. "Guilty as charged." My eyes flickered up to her. "First female shape-shifter in the pack. I'm a bit of an anomaly, to be honest."

The scientific part of me was screaming to ask questions, to figure how this worked and try to make some sense of it in my head. But another part of me was still trapped on another statement she had made. "You said 'had,'" I stated almost dumbly as my eyes narrowed. "Aiden _had_ absolutely no idea what was going on."

Her eyes widened and I knew that she had realized her mistake at the same moment that I did. "I didn't tell him anything," she was quick to say. "It was all Sam; he called Billy and they all decided that it would be better for everyone if we just explained it to him. If you want someone to blame, don't blame me."

My eyes flashed dangerously. " _You told him about this nonsense?_ " I practically screeched, suddenly filled with enough energy to rival a thousand suns. " _Have you lost your fucking minds?_ What is _wrong_ with you people?" The door slammed shut behind me and I stalked forward toward her, my own safety and pain long forgotten. " _Do you have any idea what you've done?_ "

"Uh…" Leah's eyes flickered back and forth, searching for some means of escape from the crazy woman that was quickly converging on her. "No?"

I let out a sound of frustration that sounded almost like a banshee and opened my mouth to say a few things that I knew I would never be able to take back, but she never gave me the chance.

"He was going to find out eventually!" Leah suddenly shouted before I could speak. "He came to us looking for answers and Sam and Emily knew he wouldn't believe anything we said unless he knew the truth. That's why I'm here. Because we all believe that you deserve to know the truth, too. Don't you have questions? Don't you want to know why you're feeling this way and how to make the pain stop?"

"All I care about are my boys," I automatically responded, snarling like a lioness attempting to protect her threatened cubs. "We moved to this place to get away from the drama and the monsters and I would rather _die_ than to see Aiden and Thomas go back into this… this… _mess!_ "

"It isn't ever going to end!" she finally shouted in an attempt to raise her voice higher than mine. Her words were so strong that they actually made me pause. "That pain is never going to end unless you give me the chance to explain. It doesn't matter where you go in this world or what you do to try and forget about all of us or this place – it is _never going to stop!_ " Then her entire demeanor changed; instead of determined and defensive and ready for a fight, she just looked drained. "And I think, deep down, you know it."

Neither Leah nor myself were willing to back down, our eyes unmoving from the other in case a sudden, threatening move against the other was made. The silence between us was almost tangible, permeating through the air and wrapping around me like a wave of icy water that I couldn't resurface from until she spoke again.

"You know as well as I do that this isn't some stupid illness or a broken limb that you can treat with a cast and a handful of antibiotics," she said tiredly, and I suddenly realized how exhausted she looked – like she hadn't slept in ages. "I know you're hurting and afraid and you have every right to want to stay away from us, but you aren't the only one in pain here. It's hurting us – all of us – and I want everything to be better again. I can help – we all can, if you let us. _Please._ "

With a few well-placed words and several looks of pain and sadness, Leah had successfully tossed the ball in my court – extended the metaphorical olive branch in a half-hearted attempt at peace. I could have easily taken a few steps back and slammed the door in her face, headed over to the phone to send a call to Monique to tell her that our safety had been compromised and we needed to vacate the premises immediately…

But what would be the point? It would just be pointless – a waste of time and energy that would be better spent elsewhere. Besides, somehow I knew that Leah was right when she had said that the pain would never end. That deep, burning ache in my chest was never going to go away no matter how far I traveled or how much I tried to make myself forget – not if what I thought I knew about imprinting was true. "How would you even be able to help?" I finally asked, wearily. "There isn't anything you could possibly do or say that could make things better."

Her eyes glistened with the tiniest bit of triumph at winning this tiny battle between us – but I tried to tell myself it was only because I had _let_ her win. "You're right," she agreed quietly. "I can't help you and I can't take away your pain, but I know someone who can."

A layer of goosebumps when over my spine. "No," I immediately replied with a shake of my head, knowing exactly what her words implied. "No way."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" she scowled.

"I knew exactly what you were going to say!" I snapped back, crossing my arms over my chest as an icy gust of wind flew across my skin. "If this has something to do with that imprint nonsense that I keep hearing about, then you can just turn around and walk right back to wherever you came from –"

"Wait a goddamn second," she interrupted, eyes blazing. "You know about imprinting? How?"

"I –" Swallowing, I shifted awkwardly on my feet, feeling like I was guilty of some sort of social faux pas. "I had heard the word a few times and I was curious, so I did a little research on it." A pause. "Suffice to say that I didn't like what I found and I don't want anything to do with it, so if you're just going to tell me that this whole thing is about imprinting, you might as well just leave."

"Let's back up a few steps here," she said. "What do you think imprinting is?"

"I know it's something I don't want any part in." When Leah just stared at me expectantly, I continued, "Some type of mechanism you people think you have. I… it has something to do with finding some poor girl who you think you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with. Or something. But it's controlling and possessive and literally the basis of an unhealthy relationship!" I added as an afterthought. "Why are you shaking your head at me?"

"Because you don't have any idea what you're talking about," she replied. "Katherine, I don't know what you think you found out about imprinting, but I can assure you that it probably isn't entirely accurate."

"I don't care if it's completely accurate!" I exclaimed, tossing up my hands in the air in exasperation. "I know enough to know that it's… it's _sick!_ " I spat, "and you're all fools for going along with it!"

Something inside Leah burst at that moment, and I saw a glimpse of the she-wolf hidden deep inside of her. " _For fuck's sake, Katherine, will you keep your mouth shut for one goddamn minute to let me explain?_ "

Too taken aback to even respond, I kept my mouth shut and simply stared at her.

"You aren't the only person here who was hurt by imprinting," she said sternly, something dangerous stirring behind her eyes. Her gaze, however, didn't falter.

And it finally hit me, even though I know I should have realized it ages ago. "Sam imprinted on Emily, didn't he?" I said knowingly, watching as Leah's cheeks took on a slightly red tint. Still, she nodded. "That's why you always look so… uncomfortable around them…" and why Paul was so adamant on defending them on the night of our 'not date.' "And Emily, your _cousin,_ just… just went along with this. Destroyed a relationship with you to be with some guy she barely knew…" I shook my head, having to resist the urge to cringe. "That's disgusting, controlling, unhealthy, and just… Maddening. Can't you see that there's something wrong with that?"

"You're preaching to the choir, sister," she gave me a wry smile, but there was a ghost of sadness on her expression that was gone so quickly that I wasn't actually sure it was there in the first place. "Personally, I hate imprinting. I think it's the dumbest thing in the world – all it does is cause pain, right? That's all Sam ever did to me – cause me pain. He did it to Emily too, with, you know," she gestured to her face like she was gesturing to Emily's scars. "And Paul did it to you."

Automatically I reached out and touched my stomach where three heavy scars would always be spread across my skin.

Leah's eyes followed the movement of my hand. "He hurt you," she said slowly. "Disfigured you forever. And you don't hate him for it. That's why you're so angry. That's why you're so… determined to stay away. You know you should hate him, but you don't. You hate yourself for wanting to forgive him. You hate yourself for wanting to be with him even after everything he's done to you."

Something inside my chest felt like it was cracking and my lower lip suddenly began to tremble. I bit into it harshly to stop the movement, turning my gaze away from her. "Shut up, Leah."

"The imprint doesn't just randomly tie two people together," she continued, my words having fallen on deaf ears. "It took me a long time to realize it – and I'll deny it until I'm blue in the face to anyone who asks – but Sam and Emily are perfect together. They love each other. And I know that Sam loved me once, but not like he loves Emily. Never like he loves Emily." Her voice was far off, but then she suddenly shook head to bring herself back to the present. "They match. Sam and I weren't good for each other because we were too much alike. Emily is soft – someone who can match Sam's temperament; who's forgiving and loving and gentle against Sam's unwavering, commanding demeanor."

My fingers clenched around the bottom of my shirt. "Leah –"

"It's the same with Kim and Jared," she added. "Jared was the popular kid back in school. A jock, big group of friends, cheerleader girlfriend, a real people person – the works. And then there was Kim – geeky, brainy, shy… knew nothing about the real world but was brilliant in all aspects of school. They fit together even if they were completely different from each other. They made each other better. And it's the same with you and Paul."

My voice was barely above a whisper. "Please stop."

"There wasn't anyone on the rez who could go against Paul until you came along - someone who would go toe to toe with him. He was a player, yeah, but he was always so _angry._ Argumentative. Loved to get in fights with anyone with a pulse." She chuckled, lost in some far off memory. "Then there was you – the man-hater with a heart of stone who would rather jump out of a plane without a parachute than be with someone like him. Don't you see what you two have done for each other, Katherine?" she asked. "You aren't the same person you were when you moved here; he isn't the same either. You both have changed so much and you were great with each other. Honestly, I hate imprinting with every ounce of my soul but… even I have to admit that the spirits weren't wrong when they made Paul imprint on you."

I bit into my lip so harshly that I felt the bitter taste of blood hit my tongue.

"Imprinting doesn't force you to be with someone. Eventually – no matter if it was years or months or decades – you would have ended up in La Push and you would have ended up with Paul. The imprint just…" she shrugged. "It gave you a little push in the right direction. You are _everything_ to him. There will never be anyone else for him. He just wants you to be happy, and if him keeping his distance is what makes you happy then that's what he's going to do." Then as an afterthought, mostly to herself, she said, "Even if the idiot is trying to stay away and not groveling on his knees in front of you like he should be."

"Then why isn't he here?" I suddenly asked, turning my gaze up to look at her with glassy eyes. "Why isn't he the one telling me this if I mean so much to him? My words can't mean that much – I know him. He's too stubborn just to stay away from me because I said I wanted him to keep his distance."

There was something foreign behind Leah's expression that made me believe that she knew more than she let on. "Because he thinks if he gets near you, he'll hurt you again. He isn't…" she grimaced. "He isn't himself right now. Suffice to say that if it's painful for you, it's about five hundred times more painful for him. But I get how he feels – seeing the person you love deciding that they don't want anything to do with you anymore… well, it takes a lot out of you."

A choking sound of despair left my lips and I covered my mouth with my hands. My heart felt as though it was threatening to burst out of my chest, stomach clenching and churning as my emotions attempted to settle a war within me. Leah was right, oh she was so right. I had been lying to myself this whole time. I didn't hate him; I don't think I ever did. There was nothing inside of me that held any sort of hatred for him, even though I had every right to despise him.

But… but Leah had used the word _love._ Was it true? Were Paul's feeling so strong that they could actually be classified as love? He had never really made his feelings a secret about what he wanted us to be, but would love be the word to describe it?

Was it… was it how _I_ felt about him? I wasn't sure. I had never loved someone like that before, so I wasn't sure how I should feel. Was it supposed to be this painful? This ache in the chest, this shaking of the palms, chills on the skin, and churning in the stomach? Is that what romantic love was?

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," I admitted to Leah in a croaky, slightly muffled voice. "I don't – I don't know how I feel."

"You need to talk to him," she insisted gently. "You both have been through so much – you deserve to be happy. It's not a crime that Paul is the thing that makes you happy, Katherine."

I wiped at my eyes in frustration. "I wouldn't even know what to say if I saw him."

"Yes," she said. "You would. I think you know exactly what you need to say."

Once again, Leah was right. I did know what I needed to say and I needed to say it now.

Before I lost him forever.

oOo

Someone was calling his name – his fake name, actually - from very far away, as if through a tunnel. It sounded hollow and fluffy, like his ears were stuffed with cotton. "Aiden – Aiden, come on, sweetie." A gentle patting on his cheek, and his eyes shot open to look directly into the face of Emily Uley.

He stared at her for several seconds and she waited, expectant and slightly hesitant, like he was going to freak out on her at any moment. But then he simply said, "Please don't tell anyone I passed out."

She let out a sigh of relief as chuckles sounded out from around him. Jacob's grinning face appeared in his vision, leaning over from where he was reclining on the ground. "It's okay, man. It's kind of shocking to see the first time."

'Kind of' was a bit of an understatement. When Sam had said they could prove it, Isaac was immediately hesitant. He seemed much too assured of himself for Isaac to entirely be comfortable. Isaac knew that it was impossible but for some reason… he felt that he wanted them to try and prove it. He _wanted_ it to be real, if only to have some sort of explanation for the weird things that had been happening.

And prove it they did.

Emily helped Isaac sit up, and the teenager put a hand to his forehead as a grim-looking Sam emerged from the trees. "Didn't think you'd have that reaction but at least now you know the truth."

He truth. Isaac wasn't sure if it was a good thing that he finally knew what was going on; in fact, there was a part of him that wished he had no idea. "And my sister knows about all of this," he clarified.

"Most of it. She never really gave us time to explain the whole story," Sam replied. "Usually Paul would have been the one to explain, but under the circumstances…" He frowned. "Besides, Paul isn't well at the moment."

Isaac looked up, head cocked to the side in confusion. "What's wrong with him?"

Emily was the one to answer in that soothing voice she had, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. "Aiden, you have to understand that the imprint is very powerful. The fact that your sister is fighting so hard to stay away from him… well, it takes its toll. Paul is very distraught and he isn't really sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. He's torn – every cell in his body is telling him that he needs to go to her, to apologize and just be near her, but he's also terrified to be around her because he thinks he might hurt her again."

"Is that why he wasn't at the hospital after she was attacked?" he asked. "Why we haven't seen him since Takoda was born?"

"Yes," Jacob confirmed, thrusting out a hand to help Isaac to his feet. "The only thing that Paul wants in this world is to make sure that your sister is happy and protected. If he has to protect her from himself then that's what he'll do. He doesn't have any other choice than to do what she wants, and she's made it pretty obvious that she wants him to stay away."

Protected. Happy. Safe. The words felt almost foreign. Isaac knew that Paul and the others wanted to protect them from the dangers that they knew, but what about protect them from everything else? From what they didn't know? Could this be the solution that they had been looking for? Would it be easy, simple just to blurt out everything right there and tell them the truth about why they actually moved to La Push if only to get a bit of protection from supernatural creatures?

The idea seemed almost ridiculous… but was it really so impossible to believe that these people could protect them?

"She doesn't want him to stay away," Isaac finally stated, and it was obvious that his thoughts were far away. "I don't think that my sister knows what she really wants anymore. She's just confused. Scared." There was a pause. "I hear her crying at night," he admitted softly, unable to look any of them in the eye. "I know she thinks that Thomas and I can't hear, but we do, and we've given up trying to wake her up because it just makes it worse and she just pretends that nothing happened. She's always…" He swallowed. "She mumbles. Apologizing, saying things that don't make sense…"

"About what, sweetheart?" Emily asked, winding her fingers comfortingly around his arm.

"I…" He bit his lip. "I didn't understand it at first, but now that I look back on it… I think it was about Paul. She kept saying things like, 'I'm sorry, please don't go' and I never really understood until now. She's scared because she wants to be near him, but it confuses her because she knows that she should want the opposite."

"No," Sam interjected knowingly, exchanging a glance with his wife when he reached out to take her hand. "She's feeling exactly what she needs to feel."

Isaac opened his mouth to reply but never got the chance. A ringing was coming from somewhere beside him, followed by a rustling as Jacob dug in his pocket for his phone. "It's Leah," he said, putting the phone up to his ear. "Please tell me that you're calling with good news."

He didn't hear the girl's response, but Jacob's expression seemed promising.

"Well?" Emily asked expectantly, bouncing on her heels in her nervousness.

"She said that Katherine just left the house to go and talk to Paul," Jacob relayed.

"Well that's good, right?" she said, glancing between Jacob and her husband. "That's a good thing!"

"Very good," Sam replied, though his expression said otherwise. "Hopefully. Now, all we can do is wait."

oOo

 _Next Time: remnants of a burned apartment, apologies, Paul's house, and forgiveness._


	22. Breakdown in the Wolf's Den

_To the Guest who left that huge review for Chapter 21, your reply is at the bottom! Thank you to each and every person who reviewed and thanks for the wonderful feedback/critiques (for those who gave them, at least) – each of them are highly appreciated!_

 _ **TRIGGER WARNING**_ _– small flashback that deals with implications of rape and child abuse._

 _Also, there's a part in here that talks about homemade explosives. Obviously I do not condone the use of the methods mentioned in this chapter, so for God's sake, please don't go out and try to make your own homemade explosive._

Chapter 22:

" _A part of kindness consists in loving people more than they deserve." – Joseph Joubert_

 _On a bleak and cloudy Saturday when the first beams of morning light had barely crossed over the horizon, Audrey Perdue slowly traipsed through the remaining ruins of her apartment. There were very few things that had escaped the fire before the firemen put out the blaze; a few items of clothing that now smelled of smoke but had basically remained untouched, a book or two on the shelf in her bedroom, the small box of photographs in her closet that she had never gotten around to putting in frames around the house, a few important documents and files in her safe, a pair of soccer cleats and a tiny stack of comic books in Isaac's room, and a handful of stuffed animals and action figures in Luke's._

 _But that was basically it. All that remained of the life that Audrey had built for her family could now be crammed almost entirely into a set of small boxes._

 _Black dust hung in the air and invaded her lungs as she followed the arson investigator through the rubble, only partially listening as the man rambled on about where the blaze had originated. Monique trailed behind her with her arms crossed over her chest, along with the D.C. Police Chief Bradley Hollows. Chief Hollows was taking notes in a small notebook, intently listening to the words of the investigator, but Monique's eyes never strayed from Audrey's stiff back._

 _As the smell of burning metal and cinders stung her nose, she coughed, covering her mouth when they passed through what used to be the living room. She hated to even glance at the broken furniture and scorched walls, knowing that this place had once been one of love and warmth – of safety and security. Now it was cold from the wind whistling through the broken windows and the air was damp and disgusting._

 _This fire had been no accident but Audrey knew that it would probably be classified as one. It had already been discussed. A gas leak, maybe. A broken generator that went out of control. Sparks in the air conditioner that accidentally set fire to a curtain. Something or other that would soothe the already frantic public, because everyone knew that if the media figured out that the poor young woman who put away a criminal died from arson… well, suffice to say that they would have a field day with that crazy piece of information. Especially if it was arson. Attempted murder, most likely. But… the target hadn't been where she needed to be at the time. A lucky break, some would call it, since no one had actually gotten hurt and the only damage was done to belongings and property. No lives were lost. Everyone had gotten safely out of the building with only a few bumps and bruises gotten in the rush to escape to safety._

 _As a matter of fact, Audrey wasn't even entirely sure that this incident was actually an attack on her person. No, if they were really looking to actually hurt her, they could have gotten her when she went to the gym earlier that morning. They could have gotten her as she drove to the federal building where her office was held. They could have gotten her as she waited in line at Starbucks for her usual cup of coffee, or literally any other time where they could be assured that she would have been exactly where she needed to be. An easy kill. In and out, so many opportunities where it could have been over and done with before she even had a chance to blink an eye._

 _No, this wasn't attempted murder. This was… a warning. A warning from De Palma or his cohorts that clearly said, "Look what I can do to you without getting caught." A warning that hinted at more attacks in the future._

 _The court case originally hadn't even been anything personal. She had just been doing her job, putting away a person that committed a crime. It was just another criminal, another case, and another number that would eventually be locked away in her file cabinet after it came to a close. Now it was personal. Now it was close to her heart. Her family had been targeted. Isaac had almost died and Luke could have been hurt if he had been there._

" _Audrey." A dark hand gently clasped her shoulder, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the present._

 _She looked up to see that her three companions were staring at her expectantly, obviously waiting for her to answer a question that she hadn't even heard. "Sorry, what did you say?"_

 _Chief Hollows looked visibly disgruntled with the fact that she hadn't been listening to a word he had been saying, but he didn't call her out on it because he was used to Audrey's behavior. This wasn't the first time that they had worked together, but neither realized that it would probably be the last. "I said that from what we've heard from your brother, we can conclude that the source of the fire came from a small package that was delivered to the lobby."_

" _Obviously," she repeated, nose wrinkling in distaste as she studied the device that the investigator was holding in his gloved hands. It was a tiny contraption, smaller than she had expected, and made with two short, cylindrical tubes connected on one end by a handful of multicolored wires._

 _The Chief pursed his lips at her dull tone, making the investigator take up the slack in the conversation. "It's a pretty straightforward device – just your own homemade miniature explosive that anyone can make if they have the supplies. Can't really cause a lot of damage if out in the open and the destruction isn't actually from the original explosion. The specialty of this type of device is to start a fire in closed quarters."_

 _Audrey immediately went into lawyer mode, a series of questions already stacking in her head. "Would you need any special education to make something like this?"_

" _No, not really," the investigator shrugged one of his shoulders. "Maybe a high school chemistry class, at the least, but you could easily find this sort of information by doing a quick Internet search. Hell, combining bleach and a cup of Drain-O can create a chemical compound strong enough to melt skin; suffice to say that with the expansive amount of information available online, this isn't exactly hard to come by nowadays."_

 _Monique shifted on her feet when Audrey barely blinked an eye. Stepping forward, she said, "If you gentlemen don't mind, I'd like to speak to Miss Perdue alone."_

 _The first moment that the two men were out of earshot, Audrey opened her mouth to speak. "It was him, Monique, I know it was. It has to be. There's no other person who could have possibly done this – no other person who would have the motive to go this far."_

" _Now we can't just jump to conclusions here –"_

" _Jump to conclusions! Ha!" Audrey hissed, giving her friend a harsh scoff. "Right, because that's totally jumping to conclusions. What other explanation could there possibly Some random attack? No, that's way too simple. You know as well as I do that this is De Palma's dirty work – or at least, it has to be someone on his side because he wouldn't dare go out in public right now with his face on every 'Wanted' poster in the damn city."_

" _Audrey…" Monique didn't speak again until her friend's full attention had turned. "You realize what this means, don't you? It's what we've all been so afraid of over the last few weeks. You can't stay in this city anymore. You're an integral part of this investigation and now we know you're a target. For your own safety, you have to leave town."_

" _Oh no," Audrey shook her head, not even giving the thought any fruition in my mind. "No way. I have way too much to do here. If you think that I'm going to leave D.C. because of a few half-assed threats from that bastard then you have another thing coming. I would rather die than leave this city right now."_

" _Okay." Monique nodded, conceding. "You won't leave? Fine. You don't care about your own safety and would prefer to stay here to make sure that the investigation is running smoothly? I understand. But you have to understand that this isn't about you. What about Luke and Isaac? What will happen to them if you stay here? They could get hurt or… God forbid something even worse happens to them just because you decide to be stubborn."_

 _Audrey went silent._

" _You aren't a detective or a cop or even a part of the FBI. You're a lawyer, Audrey, and a damn good one, at that," she said. "You're smart. You know what the best course of action is – you need to take care of yourself and the boys, and that means leaving town. It won't be forever, of course. At least until De Palma is caught, then you can come back to D.C. to personally put him in jail where he belongs. If you stay and he gets to you…" She let her voice trail off, implications clear._

" _Damn you," she immediately replied, narrowing her eyes in Monique's direction. "Fine then. You work for the Marshall Service – this is something you deal with on a daily basis. Where would we be sent?"_

 _Monique frowned. "I'm not sure. Somewhere safe, out of the way, probably a place where people don't focus in on the big national news cases and such. Somewhere quiet, I would guess. Out of the way. Can't really give you a definite answer until I get the paperwork to see where we have an open safe house."_

 _Gritting her teeth and with a tightly clenched jaw, Audrey gave a stiff nod. "I would stay if I didn't have the boys. You know that, right?"_

 _Despite the tension in the situation, Monique gave Audrey a grin. "No, you wouldn't. As of nine this morning everyone thinks that you and your family are dead, so I highly doubt it would go well if a dead woman suddenly went on the news and announced that she would hunt down a criminal single-handedly."_

" _Monique."_

" _What?" she clapped a hand on the lawyer's tense shoulder, gently guiding Audrey out of the room. "Think of it as a vacation. We'll find you a nice place, you'll be there for a few months – a year, tops – and then you're back home, kicking ass and taking names. Honestly, what's the worst that could happen?"_

oOo

Paul's house, like much of the real estate in the area, was hidden behind the trees in a tiny cul-de-sac away from any prying eyes – a place well away from the hustle and bustle of the not-so-noisy highway. I would have completely missed it if Leah hadn't given me specific directions. It was bigger than I expected for a single guy, but then I realized that if it were any smaller, Paul would have had trouble moving around.

It was a plain place; bland in that simple way that can be associated with a single bachelor who didn't really have a woman's touch when decorating. The grass was slightly longer than it should have been, paint on the outside of the walls was chipping from age, broken electrical tools covered in rust were piled up on one side of the porch, and there was an unused pile of firewood at the side of the house that was partially covered with a thin layer of ice. Next to eh firewood was a long gravel path that wound its way around the house, leading to a large shed that was partially hidden in the backyard.

It was to the shed that I went first, boots crunching against the icy ground as I sidestepped a random pile of wood planks that were slightly covered in a blue tarp. "If he's home," Leah had said, "your best bet would be to check the shed first. He doesn't really sleep much in his house anymore and he always liked to spend his free time making shit in that stupid shed of his. If he isn't out patrolling and he's not in his house, that's where he'll be." But I wasn't exactly sure if I wanted him to be there or not.

The makeshift metal door of the shed was cold even under the fabric of my gloves, and as I stepped inside I was suddenly struck with the overwhelming smell of sawdust and oil. The area was dimly lit but it wasn't hard to see. Electrical tools of all shapes and sizes hung haphazardly along the walls or were scattered carelessly across the ground. Carving knives were standing upright, angrily shoved into the wood of a makeshift workplace. An old barstool with cracked leather was overturned next to an abandoned circular power saw. Screws littered the floor in various places – under the worktable, next to the door, and scattered among a broken pile of painted white wood.

Sniffling slightly from the cold, I slipped off one of my gloves and bent down to pick up a piece of the wood. My fingers ran over the polished surface, pausing momentarily to examine the intricate carvings that embroidered the edges. In one image were two small children running hand in hand up the side of the lengthy piece, and in another was a picture of a wolf howling at a full moon.

Almost immediately I tossed the piece back to the ground as though it had burnt my hand, the image of the wolf sending a chill up my spine. I told myself that I shouldn't be scared of something as silly as an image, especially when I had willingly come walking into the wolf's den, but there was still that feeling of hesitation that made me feel as if I shouldn't be there – like I needed to turn around and head back home, pretending like none of this ever happened.

Another rush of fear went through me as I glanced down at where the piece of wood rolled to a stop when it hit the leg of the barstool, somehow knowing that this had to be the crib that Paul had been making for Sam and Emily. Did Paul just… destroy it? I knew he had been proud of what he had made, so why would he tear it to pieces? Another wave of fright went through me at the thought of Paul's true strength – he had torn this thing to pieces, probably shattered the wood beyond repair without batting an eye. That could have been _me_ – I could have been torn apart like the furniture, limbs ripped apart and tossed about like some child's doll.

 _But he didn't do that to you,_ said a spiteful voice inside my head. _You ran after him that night. He tried to get away from you so that you wouldn't be hurt. Paul would never purposely hurt you and you know it. We already went through this, Audrey. You can't stay away from him any longer. It will be better for everyone if you just speak to him and get it over with._

 _But that doesn't change the fact that he hurt me,_ I argued with myself.

 _No, it doesn't. But it changes_ _something._

I made my way back around the house with an ache in my heart, the porch steps creaking under my feet as I anxiously twisted the gloves in my hand. This would be the last moment I had to back away without consequence, and I stood in front of the door for what felt like hours, debating on whether or not I should turn around and leave. Then Leah's words rang back to me again – " _That pain is never going to end!" –_ and before I lost my courage, I bit my lip and wrapped my knuckles lightly against the wood.

Several moments passed as I waited to hear Paul's heavy footsteps approaching the door, but there was nothing but the sound of the wind whistling around my ears. Blowing a stray strand of hair out of my face, I reached out and knocked harder. Moments passed and still nothing. This was the point where I should have told myself, "Oh, well, you tried, time to go home!" but I didn't. Instead I found myself reaching out and wiggling the doorknob; it was open. So either Paul was home and couldn't be bothered to find his way to the front door or he was gone and had left the door open. Not as if he couldn't defend himself from intruders, I supposed.

The door creaked menacingly as I pushed it open, daring to poke my head into the house and call out, "Hello? Anyone home?" I wasn't surprised when I didn't receive an answer, but that didn't stop me from stepping further into the house and shutting the door behind me. "Paul?" My voice cracked on his name and I had to bite into my lower lip to keep it from trembling. "Are you here?"

No answer, and I wasn't entirely sure if not getting any answer was a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, I could put off going face to face with Paul for just a few moments longer. On the other hand, the anticipation might kill me before we ever get to have a conversation.

I pointlessly peered around the doorway leading into the kitchen, glancing around at the mostly untouched appliances that were doing nothing but collecting dust. The room was mostly bare of personal items except for a single newspaper tossed on the table with its pages open to the Sports section, and several old magnets that adorned the fridge. One of the magnets held a child's drawing of a gray wolf – _To Uncle Paulie,_ were the words scribbled near the bottom of the page, making me give half of a grin.

Curiously, I pulled open the door to the fridge and was somehow not surprised that it was mostly empty – just a few bottles of water, a container of milk that had spoiled about a week ago, and an untouched container of food that had a folded piece of paper on top of it. Glancing around as if I would be caught at any moment, I picked up the paper and read the tiny cursive writing – ' _Thought you might want something to eat after patrol today; please eat something, Paul, and come over when you feel up to it. - Emily_ '

Lips pursed, I replaced the note in its spot, closed the fridge, backed out of the room and finally headed down the hallway. The first door I opened led into what was obviously being used as a 'junk room,' piled with boxes and old furniture nearly to the brim. Another door led to a bathroom, masculine toiletries scattered across the sink and on the floor next to the large shower.

The third room was Paul's bedroom.

It was smaller than I expected, but that may have been because a king-sized bed took up most of the right side of the room. A plain, patchwork quilt laid over the white sheets, though it appeared to have not been used in quite a while. On one side was a door that I assumed led to a closet, tossed next to the wall was a ratty pair of shoes, and next to a small wooden dresser was a shelf with a stack of dusty books that looked like they hadn't been touched in years.

I almost made to turn around and exit the room until something on his bedside table caught my eye – two framed pictures. The first had to have been taken years ago because the Paul in the picture had to be only six years old, easily identifiable by the mischievous grin. A fairly pretty woman with long brown hair had her arms around him, and they were both smiling profusely at the camera. _Must be before his mother left,_ I thought halfheartedly, reaching out to run a finger over the frame. _Or before his dad…_

I turned my gaze toward the second picture, which was much more recent. More of a candid photo than something that was actually posed – the guys crammed in Emily's kitchen playing a round of what appeared to be poker. From the stupid grin on Paul's face and the glares on everyone else's, he appeared to be winning.

I felt as though I was eavesdropping on a private moment that I had absolutely no right to witness, so I turned my head away. But even if I did feel slightly guilty about digging in Paul's personal bedroom without permission – especially since I knew that I would be furious if he did the same to me – I realized that I suddenly learned a lot about Paul just by looking through his house. He obviously had a lot of people that cared about him if the food in the fridge and the crayon drawing were anything to go by, and the fact that the only two pictures he had in his bedroom were of his mother and his friends, I could easily conclude that they meant a lot more to him than he let on.

Quietly shutting the door behind me, I made my way back to the living room. It was just as sparse as the rest of the house, almost completely void of personal items except for a TV hanging above an intricately detailed mantle surrounding a fireplace, and a small bookshelf stacked with DVD's. There were a few scarce pictures of Paul with his friends hanging on the walls, but they looked as though they were merely last minute thoughts, only put there to add some sort of life into the room.

Plopping myself down onto the faded couch across from the fireplace, I gently slipped off my shoes and pulled my legs under me. There was no point in leaving when I had driven all the way over here, and I would just feel terrible tomorrow for leaving and inevitably find my way back. Might as well just stay here and wait until he returned. It wouldn't be long, I was sure. He would show up eventually.

Now, all I could do was wait.

oOo

 _The room she was in was cold and scarily familiar, with white pink walls and lacy floral curtains that fluttered slightly from the air being pushed off from the creaking ceiling fan. She couldn't have been any older than fifteen, curled up in the thin blankets in her childhood bedroom that had long since lost the innocence of childhood. The walls that were once bright now seemed dim, and the lace curtains felt tainted and tattered beyond repair._

 _Her heart raced as it always did at this time of night, blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders, knees pulled up to her chest, and rocking back and forth in such a steady pattern that someone could say that she looked possessed. Sleep came few and far between these days because she knew that_ _he_ _was only a few doors away. Her breath was harsh and shallow as she curled into herself, eyes squeezed shut._

 _Down the hall came the creaking of a door opening and shutting, and Audrey's heart dropped. She swallowed against the dry lump in her throat, tears making paths down her cheeks just as her bedroom door slowly swung open. Shadows cast themselves on the carpeted floor, followed by the form of a tall man with curly hair and pale skin. He smiled in an unassuming way that sent shivers up her spine, letting the door fall quietly shut behind him._

 _"Katherine!"_

Heavy, burning hands were frantically shaking my shoulders in an attempt to break me from my haze. I shot upward with a gasp and my forehead collided with something solid, my brain still halfway in dreamland where I was still being haunted by demons that had long since been defeated. There was a shout of pain that I was sure came from my own lips, but all I could comprehend was the sound of my own breathing and the fact that someone was tightly holding my wrists. "No, no, not again, _please!_ " I sobbed helplessly, fighting back against some phantom attacker as I was trapped within my own fears. " _Please don't touch me, just leave me alone!_ "

" _Damn it, Katherine! Stop fighting me – you're having a nightmare!_ " exclaimed a panicked but comfortingly familiar voice somewhere dangerously close to my ear. "It's okay; you're okay!"

My entire body tensed, frozen solid in sudden realization – the voice… Paul? The brightness in the room nearly blinded me when I opened my eyes, but once they managed to adjust I was struck with the truth: my dreams were nothing but nightmares of the past. In reality… well, 'safe' may have not been the best word to use but it was better than being where my thoughts were only moments before.

Paul was leaning over me, hands like a vice around my arms to prevent me from trying to attack him again – or more likely, probably to stop me from accidentally injuring myself even further than I already had. When he had concluded that I was no longer going to lash out, he immediately let go and stepped back several paces as if I would yell at him for doing something as trivial as being in the same room as me. Not that I had ever given him any sign that I would do otherwise.

Memories came rushing back, reminding me where I was and why I was there and who I had been waiting for (long enough to apparently fall asleep), and a flood of unbridled emotion went through my veins as I caught a glimpse of the dirty, sunken-eyed man that had unwillingly become such an important part of my life.

Neither of us moved, afraid to set off the other and cause a chain reaction that would lead to more chaos for which neither of us was ready. Paul was tense, practically balancing on the balls of his feet like he was ready to bolt out the door at a moment's notice if I made any sudden moves. Or if I felt afraid, but… I didn't. Not like I thought I would, at least. Instead there was just this strange sort of relief that seemed to permeate every cell of my body, flowing through my veins and over my skin.

The slight feeling of euphoria in my skin was short-lived as I realized just how terrible he actually looked. If I thought that I had looked like hell when I glanced in the mirror this morning, Paul looked even worse. He appeared to be past the point of exhaustion in that horrible state where he was more on edge than tired. His normally tan cheeks now looked sickly and sallow, eyes sunken in and surrounded by dark circles that made his irises seem a lot darker than they already were. His posture was slumped, and most of his skin was covered in a thin layer of dirt.

 _I did this to him._

When I found that all words escaped me at that moment, he decided to speak and break the awkward silence. His voice was low and scratchy, as if he hadn't used it in a while. "I didn't mean to hold you down and grab you, but you were crying and I didn't want you to accidentally hurt yourself."

 _How are you still worried about my wellbeing even after the pain I caused you by staying away?_ I swallowed the lump in my throat and slowly reached up to rub at my cheeks; sure enough, they were wet with tears. Letting out a breath I didn't even realize I had been holding, I pushed back a strand of my hair and opened my mouth to say… what? What could I possibly say? _'So I know we haven't talked in months and you just woke me up since I was crying on your couch in my sleep, but we really need to have a serious conversation about the werewolf thing.'_

For some strange reason, I didn't think that fun little statement would go over very well. Glancing down at my hands in an attempt to find something to distract myself, I noticed that half of my body was covered with a warm blanket from where I had apparently stretched out on the couch in my unconsciousness. Knowing that he was the only one who could have possibly laid it over me, I chose to choke out, "How long have you been here?"

He grimaced. "About an hour or so. Leah told me you were on your way over here, but by the time I walked through the door you were already asleep. I didn't want to wake you because you looked…" After searching for a word, he settled on, "exhausted."

That was putting it lightly. "So do you," I found myself saying.

But Paul just ignored my words, his fists clenching at his sides. When he spoke again he sounded weary, almost resigned. "Katherine, you really shouldn't be here. You need to go home – back to your family."

Not exactly what I was expecting to hear but I should have expected him to say something along those lines. There were only so many things that I could say that would effectively explain how I felt, but… I found that I was unable to string together the words. But this time, I would not allow him to push me away. "I…" My voice trailed off, fingers curling into the fabric of the soft blanket. "Leah came to see me," I finally said with a lack of anything else to tell him. Then I lamely added, "But I guess you already knew that."

He grit his teeth, cheek twitching when his jaw clenched. "Yeah, I know," he blandly stated with his arms crossed over his chest in a standoffish manner. "She shouldn't have interfered. None of them should have. It wasn't any of their business."

Hadn't I been thinking the same thing when Leah had first knocked on my front door? Of course I did. I didn't want any of them to interfere because it was my own personal business that they had no right to stick their noses into, but just because I didn't want them to interfere, doesn't necessarily mean that they should have stayed away. Staring down at my hands and at a loose thread in the blanket, I started, "She told me that –"

"I don't care what Leah told you." His voice was so harsh that it made me jolt upright; when I did, obviously on edge at the sudden change in his tone, he sighed. "Katherine." Paul waited until I looked up at him to speak. "You really need to leave. Go home. It isn't safe for you to be here."

It wasn't possible that he just wanted me to leave, but his words told me otherwise. Just like that, no words between us for months and now when I was finally convinced that he and I should talk things out, he decides that he doesn't want anything to do with me? Maybe I didn't have any right to ask anything of him and maybe he had every incentive to just shove me aside, but wasn't the _imprint_ -thing supposed to make it so that he would _want_ to be around me? Or did I happen to misunderstand what Leah had said?

No, I had understood every word perfectly. I knew what Leah had meant – it wasn't as if she had made herself unclear. Despite my better judgment I had listened to Leah's pestering and dragged myself over to Paul's house because I was just so damn tired of being in pain and somehow… I knew that he would be the only one who could help. No, I definitely wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, even if my refusal to leave had put me in the hospital the last time I had a conversation with Paul.

"I can't leave yet," I said, my voice sounding a lot stronger than I actually felt. "Not until we talk. I think after everything that's happened over the last few months that I deserve a proper explanation. About everything."

"Everything," he repeated. "Tell me something, Katherine: would you even be here if Leah hadn't told you to come?"

I didn't have to give a response because we both knew what the truth would be. Evasiveness seemed to be the best path, but I found myself choosing my words as carefully as possible. "I think…" I started slowly, "that I would have eventually figured it out for myself. I would have found my way here eventually. Leah… gave me a push in the right direction, I guess."

Something about the way I worded my statement made Paul's jaw clench, something passionately dangerous flashing behind his eyes. The emotion was gone before I could identify it. "How much did she tell you?"

"She elaborated on a few things I was confused about – things I'm still confused about," I admitted halfheartedly, glancing away in thought. "But overall, she didn't really tell me anything I didn't already know."

It appeared like he was in physical pain when he spoke. "Katherine, you need to leave. Now."

He had finally struck a nerve, and I found myself standing from my the couch and meeting him head on – unafraid, even if he was so much bigger than I was. "No," I found myself demanding. "You owe me. You owe me an explanation."

A sound that sounded almost like a growl of frustration came from deep within his chest, and he automatically took several steps back. "I don't owe you anything."

Looking back on it, maybe I went a little too far with what I did next and maybe my responding blow hit him a little too hard, but my efforts did not go unrewarded. In the end, my actions did what I had wanted – they had made Paul pause and gotten his attention, even if that attention was seeded in sorrow and regret. " _You don't owe me_?" I snapped, suddenly furious. Without a second thought I shoved up the bottom of my shirt to reveal the marks across my chest – the permanent marks that _he_ had made – and watched in satisfaction as his eyes became locked on the scars, something like anguish flashing across his face. This was the first time that Paul had ever seen the result of what he had done to me and, though I had long since gotten used to seeing them in the mirror, something told me that he would never get used to seeing them. "No, you owe me _everything._ "

A heavy silence echoed through the room until Paul surged forward and pulled down my shirt to hide the scars. But he didn't move away once they were out of sight. Instead he kept his hands locked on my hips, looking down at me. "That's _exactly_ why you need to leave," he hissed, though the malice seemed to have drained out of his voice. "I did that to you, Katherine, and I could just as easily do it again. I could have _killed_ you - Thomas wouldn't have a mother and Aiden wouldn't have a sister. You could be dead and now you're standing here acting like you're suddenly okay with it? Like you've suddenly forgiven me for what I've done? That's complete fucking bullshit," he finally spat, finally pulling himself away and retreating across the room. "You should give me a little credit – even now, I know you better than that."

I stared at him open-mouthed, but he didn't even give me a chance to speak.

"You can't just waltz in here and act like everything is okay, because it isn't." His chest heaved under the strain of his words. "It is _never_ going to be okay because it was my responsibility to protect you and I couldn't even do that – a simply fucking task for the woman that I care about most in the world, and I almost _killed you_."

I considered myself to be a pretty good judge of character and I was pretty skilled in telling whether or not someone was lying to me – a skill that was pretty useful when I had used it in the courtroom… even though that seemed like another lifetime, now. Staring up at Paul with eyes that were slightly glassy, his words sinking into my skin like knives, I found that I could not sense one ounce of dishonesty in him. He was truly afraid that he would hurt me – that's why he wanted me to stay away from him.

Even knowing this, there was a part of me that felt that I wouldn't be able to change anything, because how could I convey that staying away from him caused more pain than his claws slicing through my skin? How could I explain the endless itch in the back of my skull that told me that something was missing, the ache in my chest whenever someone said his name, or the way my heart skipped a beat at the sight of him standing before me? The truth was that I couldn't, even if I was good with words.

But I could be honest with him. As much as I possibly could.

"You're right," I agreed with him, struggling to keep my voice from shaking. "You almost killed me and a part of me wants to blame you. A part of me wants to hate you – knows that I _should_ hate you." There was a pause, and my voice lowered. "But I don't. I don't think I ever did."

The pain on his face broke my heart. Paul isn't exactly a man whose expression could be described as 'broken,' but he came pretty damn close. "You should. You should hate me. You shouldn't want anything to do with me."

"I know," and something in my chest snapped, making me choke on my words. "I want to. _God,_ I want to hate you so much. I want to just pretend that you don't exist like I've done with every other man I've ever met in my life, but I can't. And…" I continued before he could say anything else, "maybe it's just the imprint talking, telling me that I need something that isn't good for me, or maybe it's something else – something stronger. Honestly, I don't even think I care anymore. All I can tell you is that I know what my heart is telling me, even if my head says that I should stay away."

Because that's what love was, wasn't it? It was following your head instead of your heart. It was knowing that you shouldn't be with someone, but being with them anyway. It was being with the wrong person for all the right reasons. It was being terrified of the future but jumping headfirst into the waves because you knew there was someone there to finally catch you.

Paul didn't speak, but it looked as if he wanted to do so, shifting awkwardly on his feet and looking uncomfortable.

At his lack of response I felt my lower lip start to tremble, and I bit into it to keep it from shaking. Squeezing my eyes shut, I managed to sum up what I was feeling in just a few words, and they seemed to do the trick. "All I want is for the pain to stop."

Chancing a glance at him, I could see that his gaze had softened substantially, and I realized that he was just as torn as I was. Every fiber in his being was telling him to agree with me, but he also wanted to keep his distance. He was just as confused as I was – lost as to what to do when we both knew it was safer to stay away from each other. "Katherine…"

At the sudden sound of him saying my fake name in such a powerful and breathy and gravelly way, the floodgates within me suddenly spilled over like a dam breaking. All of the emotion that I had been keeping inside of me over the last few months suddenly burst forward in a wave, finally coming out because I was being torn in two between my need to have him in my life again and the realization that even if things were going to be the way they were before, I would _still_ have to lie to him. I felt weak, crumbling into tiny pieces right there in Paul's living room with my hands shaking uncontrollably. A loud sob that I struggled and failed to choke back left my lips as I covered my mouth with my hands, embarrassment flooding through my veins so strongly that I almost pushed past him and bolted out the door.

And I definitely would have, without a doubt, if warm arms hadn't suddenly wound their way around my torso, pulling me firmly into a slightly dirty though comfortably familiar bare chest. One of his hands thread through my knotted hair, pressing my face into his neck when I stood on my toes to throw my arms over his shoulders. He was so warm and welcome and so entirely _Paul_ that I couldn't stop myself from crying, not realizing until that moment how much I had wanted him – no, how much I had _needed_ him just to function in my day to day life.

The feeling was so foreign and so overwhelming that it made me grip him tighter, not used to being so dependent on someone other than myself. But maybe that was a good thing. It was good to be independent but not to the point where you shoved everyone else aside. Everyone needs someone, right? Isn't that what Paul had said to me a long time ago? _People aren't meant to be alone._

"I'm sorry," I found myself whispering into his ear between choking sobs, nails digging into his skin in a way that was probably painful, but he didn't bother to stop me. "I'm so sorry."

I felt his lips kiss the side of my head and his heart beat a steady rhythm underneath my palm, his searing skin feeling like home against mine. "Don't apologize," he replied softly, voice a low murmur that sent a chill up my spine. His hands curled into the fabric of my sweatshirt, gripping it tight enough that I was sure a single tug would cause it to rip. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

Yes, I did. We both had things that we needed to apologize for and we both had done things that we regretted. But that didn't matter anymore.

So maybe it was slightly unhealthy to be so dependent on someone for your own happiness and maybe this imprint stuff was complete garbage – it was no secret that it was scarily possessive to have your soul mate simply picked out for you because of some fancy fate mumbo jumbo with a bunch of spirits. Maybe Paul and I were just too fucked up to have a properly functioning relationship and maybe we were setting ourselves up for complete failure, but somehow, none of that mattered anymore, because for the first time in a very long time… I felt like I was actually where I was supposed to be.

God only knew the struggles we would have to face in the coming months, and it didn't quite take a genius to figure out that we didn't reach our happy ending quite yet. I was broken down into tiny pieces, lost and confused and scared of the future and overwhelmingly lonely. But that was okay, because so was he. And now… now we could help put each other back together again.

Even if, inevitably, we were both going to be cut by the sharp pieces.

oOo

 _Next Time:_ _"I can't make any promises about what we're going to be," indefinitely grounded, and lies._

 _Guest:_ _You didn't offend me at all and I am certainly not discouraged. I'm very happy to have people who give such creative feedback but I just wish that you would have reviewed on your actual profile so I wouldn't have to respond like this on the story page, but oh well. You actually pinpointed a major problem I had with writing Chapters 20-24. Katherine/Audrey is very headstrong and to have her suddenly obsessed with a guy is just, well, wrong, but I can only go so slow with their progress before I come to a complete stop. Something had to give, you know? Also, I understand what you meant about the Jacob/Nessie story you mentioned, but Katherine/Audrey is going to be with Paul (romantically) eventually. I had/have no intentions of keeping them friends for the entirety of this story, even if it may take a while for them to get to that point. They won't jump into a relationship in the next chapter or the next, so I hope that slightly eases your worries. If you're curious – or anyone else reading this, for that matter – about where I received my ideas for how imprinting works (besides the books, of course), to help explain my logic on why I make the characters act the way that they do,_ _please don't hesitate to  message me_ _! I look forward to discussing it with you!_


	23. Hanging in the Balance

_I had to write and rewrite this chapter at least three times but finally I've written up something that I'm satisfied with, and I didn't even get to write this until recently since I was out of town for the holidays with friends. Hope you all are satisfied with this chapter; let me know by leaving a review!_

 _Haven't gotten around to replying to reviews yet since things have been so hectic, but I hope you're all having a beautiful beginning to a New Year!_

* * *

Chapter 23:

" _He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." – Emily Brontë_

The sun had long since faded beneath the horizon; the heavy cover of clouds threw the town into the icy chill that accompanied the beginning of December. The sky outside of Paul's living room window was a messy blur of gray and black, the moon and stars mostly hidden beneath thick layers of fog. The night felt darker than most, a black beacon in a sea of confusion and anticipation – a night of new beginnings that was much more solemn than it should have been.

Leaning against the windowsill with my cell phone pressed lightly against my ear, I stared out at the inky sky and listened to Isaac ramble in my ear as he quietly relayed the events of the day. "… So then I realized the time and had to hurry to the elementary school so that I could pick up Thomas – who's really thrilled, by the way, that you and Paul are finally making amends – and I figured that it would just be easier to bring him back to Emily's to play with Claire."

"Right," I said.

He continued as if I hadn't spoken, knowing my comment was just to let him know that I was still listening. "Emily and Sam told us that we're totally welcome to stay at their place as long as we need – you know, just in case you wanted to spend a little time by yourself at the house to get things settled before you were ready to deal with us. Or Seth even offered to let us crash at his place again like we did while you were in the hospital." He coughed. "I just want to make sure that you and Paul settle everything. How is that going, if you don't mind that I'm asking? Any progress?"

I turned back to the man in question, who was currently on his knees in front of the fireplace. There was a crackling sound as he added more wood to the flames, pointedly pretending not to listen to my conversation even though we both knew that he could hear every word. "It's going okay. Slowly, but progress is progress, I guess." I turned my gaze back to the window, scratching at a bit of peeling paint on the windowsill with my fingernail. "It was a rough start, but we're steadily moving forward. Oh, and I will definitely be home tonight so there's no reason for you to stay at Emily's. Not sure how long I'll be though, so I'll just text you when I'm on my way back."

"Okay, that's fine. Are you sure that everything is okay? You sound a bit strange."

I nodded reassuringly even though I knew that he couldn't see me. "It's just been a hell of a day so I'm exhausted. I'm fine, I promise; my brain is just struggling to deal with everything. It's hard to absorb it all."

"Kind of an understatement if you ask me," he replied, sighing. "Seth, Collin, and Brady spent the last few hours explain everything to me – and I _mean_ everything – and it's completely overwhelming but incredible at the same time. I mean, I keep going over it all in my head and thinking about the last few months, and it just makes _sense_. Even though it's so far-fetched, it all fits and gives a real explanation for all the weird stuff that's been happening in the last few months."

It shocked me how casually he was speaking about it, as if we were simply discussing the weather or one of his classes at school. "It's _something,_ alright," I said weakly, running a hand through my hair and ignoring the feeling of Paul's eyes burning into the back of my skull. "I guess the logical part of me is still waiting for me to wake up and realize that this is all some crazy dream."

"Logic is overrated, anyway," he said.

"Yeah, let's just let all logic and reason go out the window from now on," I chuckled, running a hand through my knotted hair. "And just get used to men turning into wolves that can read each other's minds and vegetarian vampires working in a hospital in Forks." Because according to Paul, that was what was happening in this tiny place - monsters and mythical creatures running around like it was a _normal_ occurrence. Paul had given me a basic rundown on everything that I had been missing over the last few months – everything from how the whole wolf-thing started in the first place to what he could do as a wolf and right through what imprinting was actually about.

Suffice to say, my head was basically spinning from the sudden input of crazy information.

Isaac was oblivious and he suddenly laughed. "It isn't the easiest thing to come to terms with but it certainly isn't the hardest, either. On a scale of one to crazy, it's –"

" – Completely fucking bonkers," I chimed in, making him laugh a second time. "But yeah, you're right. It's not the hardest thing we've ever been through. We're strong people, all things considered." I cleared my throat. "We'll talk more about it later, okay? There are a few things that you and I need to discuss before the day ends, not the least of which is you deciding to skip school two weeks before your midterms."

"Hey," he defended, not sounding the least bit ashamed at being called out for his actions, "I do what I do because I love you, sis. Shouldn't I get a little credit for being an awesome and understanding brother?"

"Oh, sweetie, you get a _lot_ of credit for it and I really appreciate how you've put up with me over the last few weeks, but that doesn't change the fact that you're seriously grounded." He made a sound of disgust, but before he could open his mouth to defend himself, I added, "And I don't care how damn great your intentions were. You still shouldn't have skipped school."

There was a pause and finally another sigh of acceptance. "It was worth it. Now, you go back to what you were doing and try to make your life a little easier. I'll see you tonight when you get home for our little chat. Which reminds me, uh," I could practically see the way he would rub the back of his neck in his hesitation, "Thomas was asking me about the holidays coming up. We usually put up decorations right after Thanksgiving, but it's already the first week of December and we don't even have a tree."

With all the chaos of the last few days, the Christmas holidays hadn't even been a thought in the back of my mind. Thanksgiving had passed without any mention of the holiday, so quickly that I hadn't even realized that we had missed it until I had taken a quick drive to Forks to visit a grocery store and realized that everyone was taking down decorations of turkeys and cornucopias filled with generic harvest vegetables. The celebration had passed but I guess it was all a moot point when considering that most, if not all, of the people on the reservation didn't even celebrate Thanksgiving.

But Christmas… Christmas was different.

"I guess we'll have to go to the store and get some decorations," I found myself saying. "We need to find a place to get a tree and ornaments… Maybe some lights for the outside of the house or something simple. This weekend. We'll figure something out."

"Sounds good to me. We'll talk about it more when you get home."

"Okay. Love you, Aiden. And…" I bit my lip. "I'm sorry."

His voice was soft when he responded. "You're already forgiven."

The sound of the dial tone reached my ears and, after staring at my phone for half of a moment too long, I tossed the device onto the small table by the door. Paul cleared his throat, speaking without turning to face me. "Grounded? Might be a little harsh of a punishment, considering the circumstances."

"I'll let him off easy when I get home," I replied, plopping back down onto the sofa to watch as he stoked the fire with a metal rod. "He _did_ have some pretty good intentions and the circumstances were a little crazy, but he still skipped school. I'll give him a break later, but for now I'll just let him stew. Panic about how long he'll be grounded and hope he learns the error of his ways."

One side of Paul's lips twitched upward. "Can't say I haven't done the same thing that he did. I skipped school a lot when I was his age, but that was probably mostly due to the fact that I was still having trouble dealing with my temper. Me, Jared, Embry, Jacob, Quil… we had to leave school a lot if we got too angry. One wrong move and we would be out for days, especially at the beginning. If we didn't get ourselves under control –"

"- You could accidentally hurt someone," I finished absent-mindedly, fiddling with the end of my shirt. Then my eyes shot upward when I realized what I had said, just in time to see the pained look of regret on his face as he glanced down to my stomach. The three scars across my torso suddenly started to sting. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"I know what you meant. It just doesn't change the fact that I…" His voice trailed off and he stood, jaw clenched. He wiped his hands on his jeans and moved across the room, all but collapsing in the empty spot across from me. Paul seemed stiff, not wanting to cross some unidentified boundary that we hadn't actual drawn, and when I casually shifted to face him, he moved away from me. Neither of us mentioned it. "So I heard something about Christmas shopping?"

The sudden conversation change made me blink. "Yeah, I, um," I shook my head. "We usually decorate really early because we all love Christmas, but with everything going on, it's been the last thing on my mind. We don't even have any decorations, so I'll probably have to spend a pretty penny at the store getting garland and ornaments and lights…"

"What was it like?" he asked gently, curiosity outweighing his need to mind his own business. "Christmas for you and the boys, back when you lived in New York?"

I glanced toward the fire, choosing my words carefully. "It was… great, actually." I let out a breathless laugh. "I didn't work as much during the holidays so most of my time was spent with the boys," I told him, lost in some previously forgotten memory. "On the night before Christmas, Thomas would always insist on making homemade cookies for Santa even though I can't bake to save my life. I would end up having to make a run to the nearest store to get cookies last minute because I always ended up burning them."

He laughed, smiling brightly. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Yeah," I grinned, pulling my legs under me. "We would make garland out of string and popcorn to hang on the tree and watch cheesy Christmas movies until Thomas fell asleep in the living room. Then Aiden and I would sneak some extra presents in that I had been hiding in my bedroom closet and at six o'clock the next morning, Thomas would wake us both up immediately to open presents. We would spend the rest of the day in our pajamas just enjoying each other's company."

"Sounds like you had some good Christmases." He hesitated. "But that was recent, right? Not like when you first left home."

I shook my head, not offended by the question like I assumed he expected. "Definitely not. There were some years where I couldn't afford to give them presents, let alone a tree. But I think that, even as young as they were, part of them understood that I was doing the best I could. It got better later, but we were really just happy being able to spend time with each other." I shrugged. "What about for you? What was Christmas like for you, as a kid?"

"Uneventful," he said blandly. "I don't really remember a lot of Christmases from my childhood and nowadays I just go over to Emily's. She invites the whole pack to this huge Christmas dinner. Which includes you, by the way."

I gave him a bitter smile. "I don't know if I'll still get an invite this year, Paul. I wasn't exactly thinking about Christmas dinner plans when I told Sam – and the rest of you, actually – to fuck off."

Paul was already shaking his head. "That doesn't matter. They understand. They don't blame you for anything. I mean, Emily practically did the same thing to Sam a long time ago and obviously they're happier than ever." At my questioning look, Paul explained, "When Emily was hurt by Sam and he told her about the imprint, she left. Went back home to the Makah rez for ages and didn't return. This was way back before Jared and I even shifted, so I don't know why she eventually _did_ come back – never asked. Didn't seem like it was my business and it wasn't really important for me to know."

So Emily did have some common sense in her after all. Was it just that the imprint was too strong for her to be able to stay away permanently, even after Sam had permanently scarred her beautiful face? "She just couldn't stay away," I said with a sigh, rubbing my eyes. "This place is really fucking weird."

He barked out another laugh. "You have no idea." But then his expression turned serious, and he reached out to gently take my hand. "To be honest with you, I'm still waiting for you to run out the door, completely terrified and having suddenly come to your senses that you don't want anything to do with me."

If I hadn't run away from him after everything he had already told me, it was pretty easy to conclude that I wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and I told him so. "If I wanted to stay away from you, I would have made it pretty obvious already. I have no intentions of going anywhere. Not after everything that's happened." I looked down at our hands, feeling the callouses on his palm. "I just… I'm not really sure where we're supposed to go from here. In regards to the imprint thing, at least."

To his credit, he didn't miss a beat. "You have to remember, imprinting is just as new to me as it is to you. We have to deal with it together, as a team, but in all honesty… whatever happens between us from this point on is entirely up to you."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was doing. This was Paul's very own way of giving me an 'out' if things suddenly went sour. If I decided I had changed my mind, he would accept that choice and leave me alone, even if the damage destroyed us both. "That's why you gave me a choice that night after the bonfire," I suddenly realized, voicing my thoughts in lieu of an answer to his unsaid question. "It wasn't just out of the goodness of your heart that you told me to say the word and you would stay away forever; it was because of the imprint."

Paul looked tired, as if he suddenly aged twenty years in the last few seconds. "I sure as hell wasn't going to force you to be around me if you didn't want to be near me. Sure, maybe the imprint had a part in it, but I wasn't lying when I said that I like to be around you. I truly like being near you, spending time with you, talking to you… But any labels we put on our relationship – or even not having a label at all – that's totally up to you."

I licked my chapped lips, unable to actually look him in the eye. "I don't want our relationship to be defined by the imprint, like it's something we're required to do because of some cosmic power. I don't want someone to protect me and fight my battles for me, and I don't want some... cowering daisy who lets me make all of the decisions. If we're going to have any sort of relationship, I want us to be equals. Like you said before, I want us to face this as a team."

His hand reached out to squeeze mine and his blazing fingers made a trail of fire across my palm, threading our fingers together like two pieces of a puzzle. It was so natural that if I didn't know better, I'd say that he did it all the time. I sucked in a shaky breath, watching as his tan thumb ran over the curve of my pale fingers. "I think we both know that I'm not the cowering type, Katherine. As for the protective thing... well, we'll just have to find a steady compromise on that." There was a pause. "I know what I want. If you aren't ready for it, I'm fine with that. If you need to take a few days to figure out what you want, I'm good with that, too."

Yes, Paul had made it clear what he wanted us to be - it didn't take a genius to figure it out - and no, we had already spent too much time away from each other to have to take 'time' to figure out what we were supposed to be. "I think…" I shifted on the couch, moving closer to him – so close that I could feel the heat beating off of his arms. This was a delicate situation. With just a few simple phrases, I could make or break our haphazard relationship beyond repair. When I did speak, I chose my words carefully. "I can't make any promises about what you and I are supposed to be. I feel something for you and it's…" I let out a shaky breath. " It's probably one of the strongest things I've ever felt. Absolutely overwhelming."

When I let out my breath, he sucked one in. "But…"

"But I'm not ready to be in a relationship with someone – that's something that I know for sure. I've never," I suddenly felt awkward and cleared my throat, cheeks turning slightly pink. "I've never actually been in a real relationship with someone, whether it was just because I didn't feel comfortable or just didn't have the time. I don't want that right now; I don't think I'm ready for it."

"That's fine," he said immediately, without a second of hesitation or doubt. "I'm completely and utterly fine with that. I'm assuming that means that sex is off the table, as well?"

The sudden statement and the casual way that he said it rendered me completely speechless. I stared up at him with burning cheeks, my embarrassment blatant. "Of course it's off the table!" I scolded, my voice rising to an incredibly high octave as I reached out my arm to give him a stern but playful smack. "I can't even believe you had the nerve to actually mention it!"

"If we're going to be honest with each other, it's an important thing for us to discuss!" he laughed, his voice a deep booming sound that sent a pleasant shiver up my spine. He grabbed my hand when I reached out to hit him again, automatically tugging me forward and against his side. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he reassured me, smirking at the disgruntled look on my face as I attempted to situate myself next to him. "I just think it's really cute when you get embarrassed."

"You're mean," I grumbled, though there was no malice in my tone. Gently disentangling myself from his grasp, I righted myself and turned to him. The tattoo on his arm – a mark that each of the pack members bore on their arms - caught my wandering eye and I reached out to run my fingers over the complicated design. I suddenly felt weary, a wave of tiredness rushing over me as Paul watched my expression for any sudden changes. "This is… _real,_ " I muttered, almost to myself. "Everything in me is telling me that this can't be possible, but it is."

"Have I frightened you away yet?"

"No," I replied after a moment, gaze softening. I reached out and wrapped my arms around his bicep, leaning my head on his shoulder. "Never."

Several moments of silence passed between us as we sat there, tangled in a way that was certainly _not_ platonic, but I couldn't bring myself to move away in case he got the wrong idea. I felt him move and kiss the top of my head, his chin eventually resting on my hair.

After a moment, even though I was reluctant to break the peaceful silence between us, I spoke. "Hey, Paul?"

"Hm?"

"I'm not…" My nose wrinkled against his shoulder. "I'm not ready for a romantic relationship and I honestly don't know if I ever will be," I informed him quietly. "The very thought of it actually scares me – of being… of being intimate with someone. I'm not comfortable with it. Not yet; maybe not ever. But…" I pushed a strand of hair out of my face and lifted up my head to look him in the eye. "If you're willing, I could really use a friend right now."

One of his hands lifted up and brushed across my cheek, his thumb tracing gently under my eye. "I would like that," he admitted, voice just as soft as mine. "I would love it, actually. A lot. But I have one condition – something that I think actually applies to both of us. Something that we need to sort out before we move on."

At that point, I was ready to agree to anything. "Name it."

Something mysterious was floating behind his gaze and I struggled to figure out what he was thinking. When his hand fell lazily on my shoulder, absently tracing down my side to pull me closer into his embrace, he sighed. "The last few months have just been complete hell for me, not being able to be near you and knowing that… that I couldn't tell you the big secret. And I know it was hard for you, too, to keep your own secrets from me. So let's make a deal right now – no more hiding things from each other, everything out in the open. No more secrets, Katherine. No more lies."

My heart nearly skipped a beat at his words and I was sure that my face fell. He looked confused when I didn't speak, having probably expected a sudden and immediate agreement in what was a simple statement. But I found that no sound came out when I opened my mouth and I seriously hoped that my expression wasn't terribly incriminating – or at least, it wouldn't cause him to ask questions that I physically wouldn't be able to answer.

 _No more secrets, Katherine. No more lies._

I had been lying to Paul since the moment that I met him – hell, I had been lying to everyone I had met. We all had been lying, but mostly because we had to do so. There wasn't any way that I could tell them the truth about who we actually were; if I did say something, we would have to leave. We would have to move to another town with new identities, and chances were that I would probably never see Paul again, so wasn't I just protecting everyone by keeping secrets? Protecting everyone from a lot of pain and loss and… unexplainable circumstances.

 _No more secrets, Katherine. No more lies._

But would I really be able to base the entirety of our relationship on falsehoods? Would I be able to live with myself if Paul, someone who was supposedly my soul mate, didn't know who I truly was? He didn't know my old career, where I used to live, or even where I actually went to college.

 _No more secrets, Katherine._

He didn't even know my real name.

And what would happen if my relationship with Paul actually turned romantic? Intimate? Sexual? To have someone I was expected to be with forever, and he didn't even know my real name? We sleep together and he calls out the name of someone that technically didn't exist? The very thought sent a wave of guilt through my chest that made my stomach churn uncomfortably.

But saying anything about who we really were could put everyone on the reservation – everyone that I had grown to care for – in danger. I would be damned if I did that to Luke and Isaac. To Paul. To Emily and Kim and Leah. To the guys. To anyone. And I knew that even if I did choose to say something and I was forced to choose between the safety of the boys and my relationship with Paul, I would choose Luke and Isaac every single time. Yes, it was better not to put myself in that position and just keep my mouth shut.

 _No. More. Lies._

So when I looked up at Paul with an expression of solid stone and a heavy ache in my heart, my voice didn't shake when I stated, "I agree. No more lies."

oOo

The water spurting out of the shiny silver shower-head poured down in waves, heavy layers of steam filling the tiny room from the heat. The sensation of the boiling water was calming as I attempted to scrub away the last bits of conditioner from my hair, rolling back my neck in an attempt to stretch my sore muscles. It was nice to imagine that all of my worries were heading down the drain with the remains of the dirty water at my feet, but it seemed that whenever one problem was solved, another issue would come out and rear its ugly head.

With an unsatisfied frown, I reached down and turned off the water, blindly reaching past the shower curtain to wrap a fluffy white bath towel around my torso. A shiver went over my skin as I was suddenly hit with a wave of cool air, a hand automatically reaching up to wipe away some of the steam from the mirror and leaving tiny smudges in its wake. The fact that I could barely recognize myself in the reflection bothered me more than it should have. What happened to the woman who was always so confident in her choices? The woman that knew who she was, what she wanted, and what she was supposed to do?

I wasn't even the same person anymore. I had been a lot of things over the years but I had never been a liar, and now I was. Now I was a liar more than anything else - the girl who had spent most of her career untangling the lies of others and now she had become one of them and didn't know what to do about it. Was Audrey Perdue slowly disappearing, being replaced by some mythical woman with the word _Liar_ seared across her forehead?

With a sigh, I turned away from the mirror, unable to look at myself any longer. The towel suddenly felt rough against my skin so I dropped it, shoving on some comfortable clothes before I made my way downstairs to greet Isaac.

I tried to put a newfound spring in my step as I trotted down the stairs, bare feet chilly on the hardwood floors, but I wasn't sure that I entirely succeeded. Isaac was waiting patiently for me at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal and playing on his phone. He glanced up at my approach, studying me. "Wow," he said, after a moment of silent contemplation, "You look like a brand new person."

I didn't feel like a brand new person. I felt as if I needed to go back up and take another shower, scrubbing my skin raw to get rid of that... chilling feeling of unease. "Thanks, I think." I plopped down across from him, tying up my hair in a messy bun to get it out of my eyes. "I feel okay. Not as great as I expected, but better."

"Well considering you looked like a pile of steaming dog shit the last few days," he said casually, pointing his spoon in my direction, "now you look like a movie star. It's a fantastic improvement."

I gave him a stern look. "Thanks. You're great with the compliments."

"I take it that since you're looking better that you and Paul managed to sort out your issues?"

I shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. Mostly."

Isaac looked up, his phone suddenly forgotten. "What do you mean 'mostly'?"

I opened my mouth to give him an honest answer but stopped myself. Now that I knew about the wolves and their… _super-hearing,_ there were only so many things that I could say aloud without the chance of having one of them overhearing from outside the house. Who knew if any of them were out there, just checking up on us? With that thought in mind, my mouth clamped shut and I stood, moving over to the counter to dig out a notepad and pencil from one of the drawers.

Isaac watched me curiously, obviously puzzled at my random actions. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Give me a second," I demanded, scribbling determinedly on the paper. Then I said, "To answer your earlier question, Paul and I have decided our relationship is going to remain platonic. We're friends and we'll continue to act as such. That's about it. Indefinitely, I guess." The paper was shoved across the table and Isaac glanced down to read the words I had written.

' _Don't know if any of them are outside. Can't let them overhear certain things. From this point on, all mention of who we were is completely off limits. Not even in our own home. We can't take the chance that someone overhears.'_

He looked up and held out his hand for the pencil, leaning down to scribble his reply when I handed it to him. "Understood. So, friends? Not what I was expecting."

"I'm not ready for a relationship and we both know it." I shook my head, gaze focused on a mark on the table's surface. "Don't know if I ever will be. Surprisingly, he understood and didn't push the subject. We're going to take it one day at a time and hope that it all works out." There was a pause as he pushed the paper and pencil back to me. "Actually, he wants to come with us when we go out to buy a tree for Christmas, so you'll probably be seeing…" My voice trailed off at what he had written.

' _I get it, but maybe we should just bite the bullet and tell them. They could help us; protect us, definitely. What's De Palma against a pack of werewolves? And aren't you tired of lying to them after everything that's happened?'_

"… Probably be seeing a lot more of him," I finished blandly, tip of the pencil already on the paper.

"Fine with me," Isaac shrugged, silverware clinking as he picked up his spoon and stirred the cereal around the bowl. "Paul's a cool guy and Thomas likes him. It'll be nice to have him around again."

Wordlessly, I gave him my response. ' _Telling anyone would put everyone in danger. I won't have that on my conscience. Our secret stays hidden with us for as long as possible. No exceptions._ '

Isaac chewed thoughtfully as he read the words, crumpling up the paper in his hand when he was finished. "You're the boss," he conceded. "I respect your decision and understand how you're feeling, but I just have this bad inkling that all of this is probably going to come back and bite us in the ass one day."

Yeah, so did I, but I didn't voice that to him. "I won't let it; I won't let this change anything." When he gave me a dubious look of obvious doubt, I added, "I'm not going to let the past define what we have here, Aiden. We have a good life here. I refuse to let that be compromised because of... things that we can't control."

His responding grin was wry, as if he knew something that I didn't. "You may not have a choice."

Silence. Then something in the back of my skull itched, bringing me back to a time long ago – years that had long since passed, when my life was filled with nothing but work and exams and taking care of children. "Aiden, have you ever heard of a phrase called 'regression to the mean?'"

His brow furrowed in thought. "No. Should I have?"

"No, probably not…" I said thoughtfully, thinking back to my time spent at Georgetown. The school had a section that was dedicated to being a guidance center to those that were struggling with balancing classes with their personal lives. Several times, I had swallowed my pride and visited, if only to be able to vent to a non-biased party. Granted, most of the things that I heard were filled with a bunch of psychobabble bullshit, but that one little phrase had always stuck out to me when it was explained by one of the counselors. "It's just something I heard once."

"What does it mean?"

"It means…" I swallowed, looking out toward the window as if to see a wolf staring back at me. "It's just an old phrase. It means that no matter how bad things are, everything is going to eventually even out. It doesn't necessarily mean that everything is going to be good, but that… things won't always be bad."

He set down his spoon, the metal clinking slight against the ceramic bowl. "And are you afraid of things finally getting ready to even out?"

"No," I replied easily, pushing the crumpled paper ball with my finger and leaving myself a mental reminder to get rid of it later. "I think that things have already evened out as much as they can. To be honest, I'm more worried about the balance tipping again. For things to go bad." There was a pause. "It's difficult, this waiting game. I feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow and everything is going to be bad again, because of…"

The words didn't need to be said aloud. ' _I feel like I'm going to wake up tomorrow and everything is going to be bad again because of the things I've done. Because of the things I'm hiding. Because of the lies I've told._ '

Isaac's eyes were piercing when he spoke, something fierce behind his tone. "Katherine," the fake name sounded rough. "You made your bed and now you have to lie in it. Whether things have evened out or the balance is tipped one way or the other, you have to deal with your choices. We all do. You can't change anything. Now we just… have to let the balance tip where it may and hope that we don't get hurt when it falls."

* * *

 _Next Time: hot coffee, the smell of fir trees, and music boxes._


	24. Blunt Honesty in the Uley Home

_So guys. Please be patient with me with the slow updates; I've reached the end of my pre-written chapters and now that school has started up again, I only have so much time to write (and so much inspiration). I just want to make sure I don't screw everything up by posting too fast and not editing thoroughly, so I'm writing as fast as I can but this stuff takes time. This story will never be discontinued, no matter how long it takes me to actually get the chapters out, but please just be patient with me! Thank you all for understanding! You're the best readers ever!_

Chapter 24:

" _Eventually soul mates meet, for they have the same hiding place." – Robert Brault_

One of the worst things about admitting that you had made a mistake was being obligated to apologize.

Not that it was a surprise to anyone, but I wasn't exactly the most apologetic person in the world. Rarely did I ever take back anything that I said and I almost never expressed regret for my actions. I didn't sugarcoat my words and I said what I wanted without regard for the feelings of others. However, there were those few occasions where I could do nothing but admit that I had done something that was completely out of line and needed to make amends for my actions. I had done it with Luke and Isaac on several occasions when my responsibilities as a sister had mixed up with my responsibilities as a parent. I had done it with Monique and Lucy – colleagues, but they were the closest things I had to friends. I had done it with Paul more often than I cared to admit.

Now, it was time to add someone else to the list.

The air felt strangely still as I pulled up in the Uley's driveway, steadily rehearsing what I wanted to say in my head and hoping that words would be enough to fix what had been broken. Emily – she would understand. She would forgive me in a heartbeat, if she hadn't already. That's just the type of person she was. Sam, on the other hand, was an unknown variable. That was why I had struggled with forcing myself to make the short drive to their home – I didn't know how Sam would react and that made me nervous.

It was too late to back out now and, instinctively, I knew that I probably didn't have anything to worry about. On the night of our heart to heart – only three days ago but it felt like an eternity – Paul had reassured me that no one in the pack or group of imprints blamed me for everything that had happened over the last three months, least of all Emily and Sam. I wasn't too sure. I was inclined to believe Paul because that was the easiest route to take, but I knew that I needed to hear it for myself for it to actually feel real.

And the best way to do that was to swallow my pride and go to them.

The light layer of snow that had settled over the town over the last few days was crunching under my feet with every step that I took. I shoved my hands in my pockets to cease their shaking, sucking in a calming breath of icy air before I could find the courage to raise my hand and knock on the door.

After a moment of silence, the sound of a very familiar female voice grew louder as it steadily approached the door. Emily was speaking to someone that I assumed was Takoda, her voice gentle and happy. " – see who's at the door, huh?" There was a round of childish giggling followed by Emily's tinkling laughter. "Maybe it's -" The door swung open and Emily stopped mid-speech, expression showing blatant shock. Obviously, I had been the last person she was expecting. "Katherine! What are you – what a surprise!"

Yeah, I bet it was a surprise. Shifting on my feet, I glanced over at the tiny, oblivious bundle in her arms before looking up at Emily again. "I'm really sorry for just showing up like this, but I – well, I was wondering if you had a minute. I wanted to talk with you and Sam, if you aren't busy. Can I come in?"

Her gaze softened and she stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter the warm kitchen. "Of course you can," she said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her nervously bite her lip when I moved past her. "Sam just got in the shower, but he shouldn't be too long. Are you okay with waiting?"

We both took a seat across from each other at the table, and when Emily offered me something to drink, I declined. "Oh, yeah. That's fine. Actually, I'd like to talk to you first, about –" I hesitated, then began, "I know that… the fact that I'm here may seem unprecedented, but I - " I cleared my throat, "I wanted to apologize for my behavior the last few months. It was completely awful of me to just abandon all of you without letting you explain – and the things I said to Sam were completely uncalled for."

Emily was swaying from side to side in an attempt to soothe the baby, but her gaze was focused and unwavering. She stretched out a hand across the table to rest it on top of mine and I had to resist the urge to pull away. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Katherine. We're all just glad that you're okay. I mean, there's no way that I can be mad at you for doing the same thing that I did to Sam. We're just -" she shifted, "I'm honestly happy that you and Paul are doing so much better."

Her reaction was as I expected, but that didn't really soothe my worries. "Paul and I are letting fate take us where we need to go," I told her. "I'm not really ready for a romantic relationship and Paul knows it, so we're taking it one day at a time. He's, well –" I shook my head in exasperation. "He's invited himself to come with us to go shopping for a Christmas tree tomorrow." Not that I had done anything to sway his intention of joining us. "Should be an interesting day, to say the least."

Her eyes twinkled. "So I've heard. Paul seemed very excited when he mentioned it – like a kid in a candy store. It's been so long since he's done something like that; it's been even longer since he's felt like he has a real family. I'm glad he has you. You're good for each other, even if you don't think you are." I didn't respond so Emily added, "He told you about Christmas Day, right? About the party we have for the pack?"

"He might have mentioned it," I answered slowly, unsettled. "He said that you all have dinner here every year."

"You're invited, of course," she explained, nodding once in assurance. "Without a doubt. You and the boys. You're more than welcome to come and we would love to have you."

I opened my mouth to deny her invitation, some sort of half-hearted worry tickling in the back of my head, but I realized that I didn't actually have the heart to turn her down. "Should I bring anything? I'm not much of baker, but I can make side dishes or something else."

She smiled gently. "All you need to bring is yourself." There was a still silence and from somewhere above our heads, the wood of the ceiling creaked. "You know, Katherine, I've been thinking, and –"

In the doorway leading into the living room came a rough voice pointedly clearing his throat, making both Emily and myself jump in our seats. With his hair dripping wet and a towel wrapped around his neck, Sam Uley hardly looked as if he had just finished deadlifting a five hundred pound dumbbell at the gym, but I tried my best not to be intimidated. "Katherine," he nodded his acknowledgement, voice slightly gruff in his obvious suspicion. "Seeing you here is a surprise."

I figured it would just be better to jump right into it instead of beating around the bush. "I needed to speak with you, if you have a minute," I said stiffly in response to his unasked questions. "Putting aside the fact that our last meeting was less than pleasant," he and Emily exchanged a glance at this, "I was hoping that we could talk."

"About?"

"I wanted to apologize." If Sam was surprised by my immediate admission, he didn't show it. "For what I said. And what I did. I was angry and upset and scared – not that my feelings justify my actions – and I shouldn't have taken out my anger on you. I'm sorry."

For a long time, Sam just stared, trying to see if I had some sort of ulterior motive that he didn't know about. I wasn't sure what he was seeing when he looked at me, because he didn't speak again until there was a grumble from Takoda. "I appreciate that you came here to give your apology in person, and I accept it, of course, but that doesn't change the fact that I meant everything that I said that day at your house."

I blinked, and clarified, "You mean when you basically said that I was more trouble than I was worth?"

"Yes." A sound of shock and slight frustration came out of Emily's mouth, but both Sam and I ignored her. "I like you, Katherine; I respect you, too, don't get me wrong. I think you're very intelligent and determined and reasonable – for the most part – and it's no secret to anyone that Paul is head over heels for you, but if I've said it once I'll say it again: my pack is my first priority."

"What are you saying?" I asked, after a moment of contemplation.

"I'm saying that even though you're technically considered part of the pack, I still don't fully trust you."

"Sam!" Emily hissed, appalled at her husband's behavior.

Still, we ignored her, and Sam continued, "Maybe I have no right to talk after what I put Emily through, but I can't pretend like the last few months didn't happen. I'm not stupid, either," Something dangerous flashed behind his eyes and his grip on his towel tightened. "Paul threw himself back into a relationship - or friendship or whatever you're both calling it right now - with you because he had no other choice, but he isn't seeing clearly. I am. And I know you're hiding something, even after everything that's happened."

I unintentionally sucked in a sharp breath of surprise; Emily did the same, her eyes flickering immediately over to me. There was no way in hell that I would confirm his suspicions, so my only choice was to deny everything he said… even if it was clear he wouldn't believe whatever came out of my mouth. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, clenching my jaw. "I'm not hiding anything else."

"Yes," he replied. "You are. Paul may be choosing to turn a blind eye, but I know you're hiding something. Granted," he admitted, "I have no idea what it is, but it's there. And whatever it is, it has to be important for you to be… holding your cards so close to the chest, so to speak."

I stared at him, finding that I didn't have anything to say to fight against his excellent observational skills.

"Like I said before, the pack is my priority," Sam said, meaning clear behind his tone. "You can have your secrets – I don't care. Everyone is entitled to keep private matters to themselves. But if what you're hiding is going to hurt anyone on this reservation, _especially_ Paul, my advice would be for you to go and tell him. Immediately. If you keep it to yourself, it's just going to blow up in your face and cause a lot of unnecessary problems for everyone. I don't need that to happen again, for the sake of everyone. Not after last time."

I couldn't even bring myself to be angry with him. After all, he was simply doing his best to care for the wellbeing of his family in the only way he knew how, and wasn't I doing the same for mine? Isn't that why I had been keeping secrets for so long, even though I knew, like he had said, that they would no doubt blow up in my face? But how was I supposed to sit down and tell someone that everything they knew about me was a lie?

"Thank you for being honest with me," I finally said in the silence of the kitchen when I found the strength to speak, resisting the urge to shift in my discomfort. "I appreciate your candor, no matter how blunt your words may have been."

He didn't respond.

"I also appreciate the fact that you both accept my apology," I added as an afterthought, pushing away from the table and getting to my feet in preparation to leave. "And your patience and understanding. I'll…" I chewed on my lip, turning to face Emily. To her credit, her expression was blank. "Thank you again for the invitation for Christmas dinner. I'm looking forward to it and so are the boys, so I'll see you both then."

My first instinct was to bolt out of there as fast as possible, but when I stepped across the threshold and into the freezing air, I stopped and turned around. My gaze met Sam's; his expression was unreadable. After a moment of awkward silence, I said, "You can believe whatever you want, Sam. I may be hiding something; I may be hiding nothing. I don't care what you think of me and I don't care if you never believe another word that ever comes out of my mouth, but believe me when I say this: the last thing that I intend is for anyone to get hurt. Especially Paul. Not again."

"How am I supposed to believe you?" he asked. His tone wasn't even vicious; he sounded legitimately curious, as if he wanted to believe my words but couldn't find it within him to do so.

"You can't," I admitted. "There's no way that you can know if I'm telling the truth, but… you aren't the only one who has people that need to be protected. If I'm hiding something – and I'm not saying that I _am_ – you have to trust that I have a good reason for doing so."

His responding nod was slow, thoughtful. "You know what they say: the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I guess we'll just have to wait and see if yours are as good as you say they are."

"Yeah," I replied softly. "You'll just have to wait and see."

oOo

The air that circulated around the busy tree lot was fresh, brisk, and filled with the overwhelming smell of holly and pine. Somewhere nearby, a hidden radio blared holiday carols across the lot, spreading word of "little drummer boys" and "chestnuts roasting on open fires." Children sang along to the cheerful tunes, dragging their exasperated parents by the hand in search of the perfect Christmas tree.

 _I'm glad my child is well behaved,_ I thought, raising an eyebrow as a particularly disheveled man was struggling to chase after identical twin girls. _I don't know what I would do if Luke acted like that._

In fact, Luke had barely said a word all morning, too exhausted to speak when I had woken him in the early hours of the morning and now too enthralled with the Christmas trees, wreaths, bows, and lights around him. Perched on Paul's shoulders and his tiny fingers absently clutching Paul's hair for support, he craned his neck in every possible angle to get a good glimpse at everything we passed.

In a way, it was almost surreal. Paul seemed right at home with Luke on his shoulders, leading the way to the large rows of fir trees near the right side of the lot and chatting with Isaac as if the two were old friends. I trailed behind them both with my hands in the pockets of my coat, watching them converse and having a strange feeling that Paul seemed more at home with my family than I did. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about that, but I eventually just decided to… let it happen. What could it hurt? Paul integrating himself into our tiny, dysfunctional family was the least of my worries. No, for now, I would simply let the universe do as it wished and hope that everything turned out for the best.

Granted, it wasn't exactly the greatest plan I had ever had, but it would have to do for the moment.

The last few days had been relatively decent, which was a surprise to everyone. Slowly returning to some semblance of normalcy – whatever 'normal' actually was. Life gradually trudged along, the skies cleared up and the dark clouds were replaced with the light layers of icy snow that come with the beginning of December; I slept without waking from horrible nightmares, my headaches disappeared, my appetite returned… and Paul was completely oblivious.

And the world continued to spin.

Honestly, I don't know why I expected otherwise. It was as if a part of me thought that the world would just suddenly crack open and swallow me whole, taking away the drama and struggles and lies and stupid secrets that I was so tired of keeping – no matter how well-meaning my intentions were.

Looking back on it, maybe that was why I had suddenly decided to throw myself back into my work the morning after my heart to heart with Paul. Well, that and Sam's stern warning. I think that some semblance of me believed that if I studied the De Palma case as much as humanly possible – even though it wasn't as if I didn't know the case by heart already – then I would suddenly be able to figure out where De Palma was hiding and finally give the grand reveal about who I really was so that I wouldn't have to hide it anymore. Or, even more unlikely, I could figure out who his accomplice was and put everyone away for good. It would make my life easier, to say the least.

Because there _was_ an accomplice – that much was perfectly clear.

But the more I looked over the thick pile of photocopied information, the more the case seemed to fall apart before my very eyes. Nothing seemed to make sense, because the only way that De Palma could have escaped is if the person knew the _exact time_ that the prison transport van was leaving the holding cell; if the person knew the exact time, then logic would dictate that the accomplice had to be someone on the inside – someone with access to knowledge that only a select few should have had.

I didn't know what was scarier – the fact that De Palma was still at large or that his accomplice could have been working within the U.S. Government.

"Katherine." Tan fingers snapped in front of my face that immediately retreated when I jumped, not even realizing that I had been so lost in my thoughts that I had simply stopped walking. "I called your name like four times," Paul said, shifting his grip on Luke's legs to put a hand on my arm. "Everything okay?"

"Oh – uh, yeah," I immediately perked up, casually shrugging my shoulders. "Just thinking about everything we have to do when we get home – with decorating and such. Going to be a busy night with putting up the tree."

Isaac and Paul exchanged a glance before Paul was reaching up and pulling Luke down from his shoulders. "Why don't you guys go and get some of the free hot chocolate they were giving away near the front?" Isaac seemed to take the hint and grabbed Luke's hand, the two of them trotting off in the direction of the front of the lot. "Okay," Paul said once the two had disappeared down a path of trees. "Penny for your thoughts? You were a thousand miles away."

I gave him a wry grin. "My thoughts are worth a lot more than a penny, Paul Lahote, as you damn well know. And I wasn't lying – I guess I've just been a little scatterbrained lately. Comes with the territory of being a werewolf's imprint, I guess. Anything to keep up with you."

He cocked his head to the side and reached out to tug the end of my scarf, fixing it around my neck. His fingers brushed across my cheek and left a tingle where his skin met mine, but his hands moved away so quickly that it was like he hadn't touched me at all. "I thought that we made an agreement not to lie to each other."

Oh, go ahead and throw that back in my face again. Thank you, Paul, for somehow being able to pinpoint the source of my guilt like you had read my thoughts. "I wasn't lying. I was serious." I frowned, swatting away his hand and giving a decisive sniff. "And correct me if I'm wrong, but I think I have the right to keep some of my thoughts to myself without having accusations thrown at me."

"I'm not accusing you of anything," he replied calmly, arms crossed over his chest. "But I'm a bit concerned with the way you kind of suddenly stopped in the middle of the walkway and were staring off at nothing like a crazy person."

"I –" I stopped, chewing on my lip. How could I explain to Paul the way that I got lost in circles in my head, trying to solve a mystery of which I should have had no knowledge? "I'm sorry. I know you're just concerned, but you don't need to be. Everything is completely fine."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

Paul didn't look like he believed me in the slightest, and when his eyes narrowed in suspicion I simply gave him an innocent smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but didn't get the chance.

"Mommy, mommy!" Luke had suddenly appeared by my side and was tugging anxiously on my arm, Isaac running to keep up with him while struggling not to spill two Styrofoam cups filled with hot chocolate. "We saw a tree! Come on, come on; you have to come and see it!"

"Okay, okay!" I laughed, putting my hands on his shoulders to pull him to a halt so that I could fix his haphazard hat. "Let's go and find us a Christmas tree," I conceded, allowing him to slowly pull me along. "How tall is it?" I asked Isaac, taking one of the cups from him. "Did you see the price?"

"It was like $70 and almost seven feet." He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "Should definitely be able to fit in the living room. Any idea where we're going to put it?"

"I was thinking near the window – we could move some furniture around or something to make it fit," I said. "I think that – Thomas, slow down! – It won't be hard since I've got two strong men to move things around for me, right?"

Isaac made a face and Paul laughed, our previous conversation all but forgotten. "So that's your real plan, huh? Only being my friend so I can help you move furniture."

I winked. "I always have to have an ulterior motive."

"There it is," exclaimed Luke, bouncing up and down on his feet. "Look, mommy!"

It certainly was a beautiful tree – a bushy Canaan fir, according to the tiny tag at its base, with needles that were a dark green and covered in a light layer of white powder. The smell bursting off of it was potent and fresh, as if it had just been cut down from its base several hours ago.

"Well?" Paul asked, nudging my side. "Seems like a nice one, if I do say so myself."

"Hm, I think I agree," I gave Luke's shoulder a pat and took a sip of the hot chocolate in my hands. "I think we've found ourselves a Christmas tree."

oOo

The fire was low, the wood was crackling, the newly decorated Christmas tree was lit up with blinking lights, and the snow was flurrying lightly just outside the living room window. It was quite a peaceful night – silent, cozy, and comfortable. I felt like I could just fall asleep if I let myself, my eyes threatening to droop shut at any moment and my body scolding me for not taking a well-deserved snooze.

I was stretched out on the sofa with a thick blanket around my shoulders, Luke passed out in my arms with his head buried in the crook of my neck, and my feet in Paul's lap. He absent-mindedly pressed his thumbs into the sole of my foot, effectively heating up my frozen toes. When I yawned, letting my head lean against the side of the couch, he glanced at me. "You aren't falling asleep on me, are you?"

"Mm," I sighed and nudged his chest with my foot. "No, not yet, but I'm well on my way there." I paused, and he continued his ministrations. "That feels really good. You're really good with your hands."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Don't," I warned, already knowing where his thoughts were straying. "Dirty-minded asshole. I didn't mean it like that."

Paul shook his head and gave me a soft chuckle. "I know what you meant."

We settled back into companionable silence, and Paul shifted. There was a foreign look on his face that made me wonder what he was thinking. At times, I felt like I could read him like a book, but in moments like this… I realized that I barely knew how to read him at all. He always managed to surprise me when I least expected it, able to go from this incredibly insane person that I had kicked in the nuts – over what seemed like years ago, when it was actually only a few months – to someone I had grown to care for more than... more than… more than expected.

Did that mean that I had grown as a person?

Maybe, maybe not. I wasn't quite sure. I suppose that I wouldn't be the best judge of character, especially when referring to myself, but maybe there was something inside of me that had permanently changed by heading to La Push. Even if it had been against my will and I had fought it tooth and nail with every step.

All I knew was that I needed to seriously start redefining what many words meant to me. Normal – did I even know what that was, anymore? Logic – didn't exactly hold the same appeal as it used to hold in my head; I found myself throwing it out the window more often and finding myself better off for doing so. Loneliness – an emotion so deeply ingrained into the very parts of who we were as human beings that it injured the heart when touched upon. Friendship – not just some means to an end where the person would leave after they had gotten what they wanted. Love –

Love…

"That's a hell of a tree," Paul mused thoughtfully.

I followed his gaze to the tree in the corner of the room, next to the window like I had wanted it. It had been amusing to stand in the corner of the room with Luke and direct Isaac and Paul about where I wanted everything moved to make room for the tree. Neither of them seemed as amused I was, though, for some strange reason I couldn't fathom. And here I had thought that Paul liked doing things for me. Who would have guessed? "Yes, it's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

The ornaments were all new, ranging from glass bulbs to real candy canes to tiny stuffed animals with strings attached, a misshapen and haphazard variety of colors that somehow seemed to work well with each other among the green needles. Though I wished that I could have salvaged some of the old ornaments from our old home, I had to admit that the new decorations seemed to have a particular charm to them when accompanied by the sparkling garland and twinkling lights. They were all topped off with a bright white star, which Luke had put on when lifted up into the air by Paul.

"I haven't had a real tree since I was a kid; we had a fake one back in New York," I admitted quietly, running a finger over Luke's hairline. "My dad – my real dad – had always insisted on getting a real tree. Said it put everyone more into the Christmas spirit or something. Plus, it always made the house smell absolutely incredible and my mom would always be making Christmas treats, so it was just this… experience."

"What were Christmases like for you as a kid?" he asked. "The last time we talked about your mom, it was like you felt resentment for her, but now you talk about her fondly. Was she different when you were a kid? During the holidays?"

"I – my mother wasn't always ignorant. She used to be a pretty great parent before…" I let my voice trail off. "As for the holiday celebrations, they were just like they were for any other kid, I suppose," I shrugged as much as I could without disturbing the sleeping boy in my arms. "Before my dad died, I had a relatively happy childhood, so Christmases weren't really filled with drama and sadness. They were wonderful. I remember waking up on Christmas morning and opening gifts, leaving out cookies and milk for Santa, baking and singing Christmas carols with mom while trying to prevent dad and Aiden from sneaking a treat when we weren't looking…" I glanced toward the fire, lost in thought. "What about for you? What were your holidays like, as a kid? I know I've asked you that before, but you never really gave me a straight answer."

He was quiet for a long time before he let out a heavy breath. "To be completely honest with you, I don't remember much about them. I was really young when my mom left so I don't really remember any Christmas celebrations before that; when she was gone, suffice to say that my dad was never actually in the joyous spirit, so we didn't really celebrate during the holidays."

My heart broke a little bit at the expression on his face, and I was suddenly struck with an astounding realization that I should have realized ages ago. I didn't hate Paul. I knew this, of course, but I finally knew _why._ I kept questioning myself in regards to why I was slowly starting to grow fond of this person that I should do nothing but despise with a burning passion, but now I realized: it was simply hard to hate someone when you actually understood them.

And I did understand Paul, probably because we were so much more alike than I had originally realized – or more than I wanted to believe. Sure, I had my struggles and my problems and my dark past, but so did Paul, and even though they weren't exactly the same struggles, I understood that we could fill in what we had been missing by helping each other. Paul was slowly but surely helping me open up to others – to realize that my hatred of the male species left so many doors closed and that not every man was like the one that hurt me. Now, it was my turn to show Paul what _he_ had been missing – the way that a real family could actually be. Before I could stop myself, I found myself saying – almost demanding, in a way that left no opportunity for him to refuse – something that I probably never would have said if it had been anyone else. "Spend Christmas morning with us."

His hands stopped moving along the instep of my foot as his eyes shot upward, studying me in incredulity. "What?"

Well, I certainly couldn't back down and take back my words and I had no intentions of doing so. He knew what I had said – I could see it on his face – but it seemed that he was so shocked that he needed to hear it again to make sure he wasn't hearing incorrectly. "Spend Christmas morning with us. I think that Aiden and Thomas would love it if you joined us, and I would, too." Then, as an afterthought, I added, "Please."

"You really want me to spend Christmas morning with you?"

I thought about it and found that I didn't have to lie to him. Not in the slightest. When I gave him my reassurance, I did it with the most assured voice I could muster. "Yeah, I really do."

He stared at me for several moments, searching for something on my face that I couldn't describe – like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out but he would happily spend the rest of the day trying to solve. Apparently he found what he was looking for because he suddenly smiled – a real smile that could have cracked his cheeks with how wide it was. "You know, if I didn't know better, I would say that I was growing on you."

My lips twitched. "Don't push it, Lahote." Then I nudged him with my foot for the second time that night, pointedly glancing at his hands in an attempt to get him to continue what he had been previously been doing. "Now back to work."

He chuckled and flicked my ankle with his finger, but eventually pressed his thumbs into my heel and continued the massage. "So what do you want for Christmas?"

"You don't have to get me anything just because I invited you over," I told him, giving him a scowl that said he should clearly know better.

He scowled right back at me. "Don't be stupid. I was going to get you a present, anyway, but it would help if you gave me a little guidance so I don't get you something completely out of the box."

I pursed my lips, thinking carefully. "To be honest with you, there's nothing that I really want. I'm more of a gift giver than a receiver. Which begs the question: what do _you_ want for Christmas?"

"Oh no," he scolded. "Don't try and change the subject. There must be _something_ that you want," he insisted in exasperation. "Think back to when you were a kid – wasn't there anything that you wanted more than anything else in the world? Something that you just had to have?"

Just like that, it hit me. A memory swept its way through my skull at full force, bringing me back to a time long past. "Now that you mention it, I can think of one thing." Then I hurried to add, "but it's stupid and it's not what you think. I wanted it more than anything else in the world, but –"

"What was it?"

"It was -" I smiled thoughtfully, shifting Luke in my grasp when he unconsciously reached up to clutch at the collar of my shirt. "It was a music box. This silly little music box that I saw in an antique store that I passed by every day with my mom when we went into the city. It was placed in the store window on a red velvet pillow, surrounded by Poinsettia flowers in this beautiful display… I can still remember the way it looked – this shining black and gold ceramic box with two tiny, glass children spinning around inside of it. My eyes were drawn to it every time we passed and I remember begging my parents for it every day for a month, if only because it played one of my favorite songs."

"Oh? Which song?"

""Pure Imagination _,"_ " I replied, smirking at the amused expression on Paul's face. "From _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory._ I know, I know, but I used to love that song. Still do. I sang it to Thomas a lot when he was a baby – sometimes it would be the only thing I could do to get him to sleep – and to Aiden when he was sick as a toddler. I'm completely tone deaf, but neither of them seemed to mind very much."

Paul laughed, reaching out to fix the blanket around Luke's shoulder almost robotically, like it was second nature. His eyes, though, seemed sad. "Let me see if I can guess the end of this story – you didn't get the music box."

"You guessed wrong," I said knowingly, giving him a bitter smirk. "I woke up Christmas morning and the box was under the tree along with a myriad of other presents. God only knows how much it must have cost. That's why I said it wasn't what you think – I wanted it more than anything, and I _did_ get it for Christmas that year."

"Then why even bring it up?" he asked curiously, neither of us having noticed that he had stopped moving his hands. "Do you still have it?"

"I -" I frowned, a wave of sadness rushing over me. "No, I don't have it anymore. I bring it up because it was the only time I've ever wanted something for Christmas – at least, that badly. I loved that little thing – I would listen to it constantly, enough to drive my parents insane, and I would just sit in my room listening to the music and watching the two little figures spin round and round."

"Well, what happened to it?"

I swallowed, unable to look at him any longer. "I wish I knew. It… When my mother got remarried to the devil incarnate, he wasn't too happy that I actually cared about something. I guess he wanted to make my life more miserable than it already was or he didn't want to give me any more reminders of my dad, so one day I woke up and it was just… gone. Disappeared, nowhere to be found." I felt a tear randomly slip out of the corner of my eye and quickly wiped it away, sniffing and forcing myself to choke out a laugh. "God, I don't even know why I'm crying. It was so long ago that it shouldn't bother me anymore, but…"

"It bothers you because it meant something to you," Paul stated seriously. "It was important to you and that sick bastard took it away when he tried to control your life in any way possible. It's awful. I'm sorry that happened to you."

"Like I said, it was a long time ago," I replied quietly, resting my chin on top of Luke's head and squeezing him a bit too tight. He didn't seem to mind, letting out a sleepy sigh of contentment. "I cried for days when it happened, but I quickly realized that there were bigger problems that I needed to worry about."

"You never tried to get another one?" he asked, hand warm from where it gently stroked my ankle. "Just as a last ditch attempt to spite him?"

"I did, actually," I nodded, "but I couldn't afford one at the time. Music boxes are pretty expensive – especially one like I had – and it's really difficult to find one that plays a particular song. Later on when I was financially stable… I never bothered to look into it. Didn't seem very important."

"If it was important to you back then, that means it's still important to you now," he replied.

"Yeah, I guess." A pause, and I narrowed my eyes when I could practically see the cogs churning inside of his head. "And don't you think for one second about buying me a music box, Paul. Those things are really expensive and I don't need one. Seriously. I don't need a present at all."

He lifted his hands in defense of himself. "Alright, I won't spend a penny on buying you a music box. I promise."

There was something in his tone that made me believe he wasn't telling the truth to me, but I didn't have the heart or the energy to press the matter. Instead, I let him get lost in his own thoughts, taking the time to study him intently. I had done the same thing several months ago when he had drove us home from the bonfire, not knowing at all how important he would eventually become in my life. I had only seen him as some random person who couldn't take a hint – someone who wouldn't mean anything to me.

Now he did mean something.

I had once looked over his profile and noticed the defined contours of his face – the sharp nose and cheekbones that hinted at stubbornness, the thick eyelashes that hooded dark brown, enticing eyes that probably fooled many people over the years… But now all I could see was the ghost of a beautiful smile on his lips, the dimple on his cheek when he grinned, the sparkle in his eye, and the gentle touch of his strong hands.

As if a curtain suddenly opened up or a light bulb suddenly flickered in its lamp, blinding me with the light of unwanted revelation, I was struck with the most bittersweet truth of the night – something that made my chest ache with want and my head swarm with a surprising amount of guilt:

I could, quite easily, see myself falling in love with Paul.

The truth of the unexpected thought terrified me, but I kept my expression blank and struggled not to show my panicked emotions on my face. Paul suspected nothing. He would never suspect anything, just as long as I kept myself in check.

Because falling in love with Paul when I was doing nothing but lying to him – even if it was for his own good and even if Isaac thought that I was making a huge mistake by keeping such a huge secret – could lead to nothing but disaster.

Then I looked up at Paul again, watching as the reflection of the fire flashed in his eyes and realized that… maybe I wouldn't be able to stop myself from falling in love with him. Maybe there was nothing I could do to stop the inevitable.

And maybe… just maybe… I didn't _want_ to stop it.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

The fire continued to crackle.

And the world continued to turn.

* * *

 _Next Time:_ _working overtime in the Department of Justice, making a snowman on Christmas Eve, and late night phone calls._


	25. When Feelings are Revealed

_I hate writing bad and painful things. Ugh._

 _Also, we have reached 300 reviews! Oh my goodness, you guys are the best readers in the whole world. Thank you so much and enjoy the chapter!_

oOo

Chapter 25:

 _"Fear both the heat and cold of your heart, and try to have patience, if you can." - J.R.R. Tolkien, Unfinished Tales_

On the fourth floor of the building that housed the main center of the Department of Justice, in an office lit up with yellow light that looked down upon the mostly deserted sidewalks of Pennsylvania Avenue, Daniel Callaghan was working late.

This wasn't exactly something that was unusual or unprecedented, since he and his colleagues often found themselves working through the late hours of the night when their caseloads became much too heavy or because they had simply lost track of the time and were too into their work to notice that they should have gone home hours ago. This was common, unlike in those other government agencies with the cushy nine-to-five careers where they could pick up their work the next morning after stopping by Starbucks for an espresso. No, the members of the DOJ were the determined ones. The ones who did their damn jobs. The ones that struggled to get things done, even if it meant getting home a little late. Or a _lot_ late.

Not that Daniel had anywhere else to be, nor was staying late at work helping him make any progress with his task whatsoever. In fact, he was sure that he was progressing _backwards_ with the way that his research was going. He had been looking at the same damn file for almost three hours, having shoved aside his other cases for the tragedy that had been making his brain itch for months: the infamous escape of Frankie De Palma and the sudden death of the Perdue family.

He had lost count of how many times he had actually read over the information – enough to know the case word for word, both backwards and forwards. From everything to the eyewitness accounts to the court testimonies to Audrey's own research on the bylaws that had pushed her case forward, Daniel knew it all. He considered himself an expert on the case even though he had barely glanced at it before passing it to Audrey when it had first come across his desk.

He regretted not taking a closer look. Maybe if he had, this whole thing could have been avoided.

Daniel liked Audrey and Audrey… well, Audrey didn't like anyone, but he was sure that she held some sort of respect for him, at the least. Daniel was the one to have hired her and he saw something in her when she had walked into his office for her scheduled job interview acting like she had already been hired. She had spunk, determination, and she was damn brilliant at everything she did, even if her social skills could use a bit of work. He figured that after everything that they had been through, he at least owed it to her memory – and to the memory of her son and brother – to catch that bastard and put him away permanently.

That was why he had dug out the file from Audrey's office before the contents of the room had been purged and packed away. He wanted to help in any way that he could, so he picked up the thick packet one rainy day several months ago and had barely put it down ever since, because…

Because…

Because something wasn't right.

Daniel had pored over every inch of the file and there were inconsistencies everywhere – little missing pieces that Audrey couldn't have possibly missed because they were so blatantly obvious. It was like someone had taken two puzzles and mixed them together and expected you to be able to combine the two to make a whole. Like someone had tampered with the files before he had received them, because he was sure that Audrey couldn't have passed over such blatant... wrongness.

Even Audrey's notes noted her own suspicions. ' _Inconsistencies in witness statements may cause problems later, though they are relatively minor,_ ' she had written in a neat, curvy script. " _There's an insistence that De Palma had been working alone – and further investigation shows that there is no evidence to dispute this fact – but some of the details do not seem to add up. Someone would have had to shut off the alarms in the Mariani household for De Palma to enter the house in the first place. Fingerprints found at the scene match De Palma, but other prints near Eleanor Mariani's body do not match the fingerprints of anyone in any known database._ "

Really, he was stumped. It was no secret to anyone that De Palma was guilty of his accused crimes, so Audrey had apparently shoved aside her own doubts and stuck with what she knew. She had succeeded, for a time, but her suspicions had presented themselves once again.

De Palma couldn't have been working alone.

Of course, they had easily figured that out when the man had escaped, but the question was: _Who?_ Who could have possibly helped De Palma escape from the prison transport van? Who could have let him into the Mariani home? Was it the same person that had a hand in the death of Audrey and her family? What about in the death of De Palma's lawyer, Damien O'Connell? Was it more than one person that they needed to catch? Was there a whole network of people of which they were unaware?

Daniel tossed the files on his desk and rubbed his eyes, taking a hearty sip from his glass of Scotch. It was truly a conundrum and he wasn't quite sure what he should do. Some would say that he was simply wasting his time, sticking his nose where it didn't belong and doing a job that should have been allotted to someone else. However, every time he put down the file, the little itch in the back of his skull returned and he would be forced to pick up the information once again to scan it over just in case there was something – no, _anything_ – that he had missed.

Because it just… _Didn't. Make. Sense._ And each time he read through it, he continued to come up empty.

Daniel heaved a heavy sigh, drained the rest of his drink, and pushed back from his desk to refill his cup. He felt like a failure, and the guilt flooding through his chest was almost overwhelming. He wasn't quite sure what to make of the information that he was seeing, or even where to start to find a solution to the madness.

A knock came from his closed office door, and Daniel's gaze narrowed in suspicion at the wood as if he could see straight through it to the other side. He waited for a moment before the knock came again, a trio of insistent, pointed clicks against the clouded glass window embedded in the wood. "Come in," he called out, closing the file on his desk and shoving it in his drawer.

The door swung open to reveal someone that he hadn't seen in months, since the quiet, close-casketed funeral for Audrey and her family – Monique Hathaway. Daniel didn't know Monique as well as Audrey had known her; they had worked together on several occasions, but only enough for him to reach the point where he would give her a nod of acknowledgement if they happened to pass each other in the halls.

Now that Daniel thought about it, he didn't think he had even spoken to her at Audrey's funeral. The tall, sturdy woman with her Amazonian like features had stood silently in the back of the room throughout the entirety of the short service, gaze like steel as the casket had been lowered into the ground. At the time, he had just attributed her behavior to grief – everyone experiences it differently, and it wouldn't be so far-fetched to imagine that one of Audrey's only friends chose to experience her grief by putting herself in a defensive stance in the back of the room where she wouldn't be bothered by anyone else. He hadn't thought anything about it then, but now… her presence here was suspicious in and of itself.

Daniel leaned back his chair and raised an eyebrow at the woman, her form taking up most of the doorway. She didn't bother taking one of the chairs on the opposite side of his desk; instead she simply stood, ramrod straight and clutching something in her hands that looked semi-important. "Well, this is certainly a surprise," he drawled lazily, lifting up his glass in greeting. "What are you doing here so late at night? Care for a drink?"

Monique wrinkled her nose in distaste as the liquor sloshed around in his glass. "Had to drop off a few files to the mailroom that couldn't wait until morning; I'm taking a flight out to New York for a meeting. Saw the light on under the door when I passed on my way out, so I thought I'd come and see what you were doing. Thought I would say hello. What were you working on that's so important that you had to shove it in your desk so I wouldn't see it?"

Daniel frowned. "You know I can't discuss a case with someone who isn't a client, Miss Hathaway."

"Hm." She studied him for several moments. After a moment, she said, "Little late to be drinking, don't you think?" A glance at the clock on the wall behind his desk made her change her statement. "Or I guess now it would be a little early. What is that?" She snatched the glass out of his hand and smelled the liquid, grimacing. "Scotch? Must be a hard case for you to be here past midnight, drowning yourself in expensive liquor."

He pushed back his chair and took the glass back from her hands, placing it back on the desk where it belonged. "Did you need something, or did you just stop by to say hello?"

"I figured that I could drop something off while I was here," she said, finally pulling out one of the chairs and settling down into the leather. Monique took the stack of documents in her hands and placed them on the desk, primly crossing her legs. "It's something about Audrey's case. The De Palma case."

He didn't speak.

"Don't pretend like we both don't know that was exactly what you were looking at, Callaghan," she smiled grimly. "I know you snuck the files out of Audrey's office before they cleaned it out and I _know_ it's been driving you nuts – the inconsistencies. The confusion. The… supposed accomplice."

Daniel knew it was pointless to even pretend that she was wrong. His hands itched to grab at the files, but he crossed his arms over his chest to prevent himself from picking them up and absorbing them like he had done with the original stack of information. "What do you know that I don't?"

Monique didn't bother to answer his question. "You shouldn't blame yourself, you know. For Audrey's death, I mean. It wasn't anyone's fault except for De Palma's and we're on the path to catching that bastard permanently. You know how Audrey was just as much as I do. She was stubborn until the very end and wouldn't go out without a fight. If you would have even _thought_ about giving that case to someone else, she would have gone ballistic."

Daniel sat on the edge of his desk and rubbed his eyes. "It's been driving me insane," he admitted. "It's got to be an inside job; I know it is. I can't – I don't have the means to piece it all together. Audrey –" He grimaced. "Audrey would know what to do. She always did – even though she didn't have much tact when telling you exactly what you were missing."

When Monique didn't immediately respond, he looked up. She was staring at him intently, understanding and some sort of foreign recognition dawning behind her eyes. "You loved her," she said softly, voice filled with realization. Then she seemed to realize what she had said and a heavy beat of tension fell over the room. After a short moment of silence, she added, "I'm sorry. Audrey was –"

"Audrey is dead and my feelings for her are irrelevant." Audrey was long gone, and she wouldn't ever be coming back. It had always been a fool's dream, anyway. There was no way on earth that Audrey Perdue would have even considered a relationship with him, no matter how much they respected each other, how close they were in age, or even that they had similar interests. No, Audrey would have considered it a joke; she probably would have laughed in his face. "Not having that man brought to justice is driving me absolutely insane. I have to do what I can, even if the only thing I can do is scrutinize a bunch of files."

"I figured that there's no way possible for me to get you to leave the case alone for the sake of your own sanity." She shifted in the chair and the leather squeaked under her. "That's why I brought you some more information. I thought it might help you figure some things out - things that I wasn't quite able to piece together. This is more of your area of expertise than it is mine."

"I'm starting to think that I'm not much of an expert, anymore," he stated, almost to himself. Then he cleared his throat and shook his head, finally picking up the top paper on the stack. "Credit card activity of the De Palma family?"

"When I was doing my own research, I tried to come at this from every angle I could think of," she said. "It's probably nothing important, but I just figured… any little bit helps, right?"

Daniel nodded in agreement. "It's something," he said, placing the paper back its place. He watched as Monique headed toward the door, hovering in the frame. For the first time, he saw a hint of doubt on her face. "Why did you really come here, Monique? It couldn't have just been to drop off some files to me or to the mailroom. What's really going on? What aren't you telling me?"

The moment that Monique broke eye contact, Daniel knew that he had hit the nail on the head. He waited for her to speak again, letting her organize her thoughts before she answered his questions. "I…" she chewed on her lip, awkwardly rubbing her arm. "I don't know. I just have this feeling that…" She tapped her foot against the side of his desk. "I just have a bad feeling. I don't know why, but something told me that I needed to give you everything I have on the case."

"Why me?" he asked. "Why now?"

When she met his gaze again, her eyes were like steel. "Because if I didn't give it to you now, I have a feeling that I might not get the chance again. There has to be someone else that knows what I know, and I don't trust any of the people in my office anymore. They –" She shook her head. "I mean, I _trust_ them, but they wouldn't understand my actions. I could probably get fired for even telling you anything."

"What do you have to tell me? Why don't you just say it?"

She surreptitiously glanced around the room, but he didn't miss the way that her eyes wandered. "Ears everywhere. Just read through the files, and after you learn what you need to know…" Her eyes told him everything that she could not put into words. _After you learn what you need to know, destroy the evidence._

His heart pounded. _Could it be…?_ "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I'm not saying anything," she corrected, rising to her feet. She shoved aside a stray strand of her hair as it fell into her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. "Just read through my research and don't make too much out of it. It's not much, but it's what I could find. Don't know when I'll be back or if I'll be able to help you out, so you're on your own with putting the puzzle together – if we even have all of the pieces."

That would be fine. He had already been doing all of the research on his own. "Okay. Next time you get back in D.C.," he said, words giving a hint that he was demanding instead of simply inviting, "don't hesitate to stop by. I'd like to have a chance to discuss this further, if you get the chance."

There was a pause, like she didn't know how to answer, and Monique eventually nodded and gave him a slightly bitter smile. She turned to leave but stopped mid-step, swinging her head in his direction. "Take care of yourself, Daniel. Get some rest before you drive yourself insane with grief."

He cocked his head to the side, the corner of his lip twitching skyward. "I think you're the one who needs to follow that piece of advice."

When the last of her footsteps retreated somewhere down the hallway outside of his office, Daniel settled back in his chair and struggled to process the sudden input of information. For several moments he simply stared at the stack of papers on his desk, pondering. Then he quickly snatched up the stack like it was a fresh breath of air to a man who had previously been drowning, and scanned through the papers faster than his eye could actually perceive.

While he flipped through the stack of credit card bills, home foreclosures, juror information, and lawyer fees, a small slip of yellow paper fell from between two pages and slowly curled in the air as it fell toward his desk. He stared at it when it caught his eye, reaching out to pick it up with unsteady fingers.

Several moments went by and he didn't move. Then without missing a beat, he reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a lighter, and lit the corner of the note on fire. The flimsy yellow paper slowly burned in front of his eyes, the words hastily scribbled on it going up in red flames. He wasn't sure if he was more relieved or dismayed at what he had seen, the eight simple words echoing like gunshots in his mind:

 _Katherine Montgomery. La Push, Washington. Tell no one._

Daniel sighed and buried his head in his hands, feeling as if he really needed another drink.

oOo

The days leading up to Christmas Eve were busy, to say the least. Between helping Isaac study for his midterm exams and preparing his applications to more universities than I could actually count, finishing up with setting up Christmas decorations, doing research on the De Palma case and effectively coming up with little to no information whenever I looked, and dealing with Paul's incessant tendency to show up when he wasn't expected (to my exasperation and the amusement of both Luke and Isaac), I barely had time to even breathe.

Christmas Eve had snuck up on the residents of La Push amongst the plethora of tangled Christmas lights and college brochures, dawning on a bright and sunny day that didn't quite take away the chill in the air. Instead, the blinding rays gave nearly every snow-covered surface a cheerfully shiny sheen.

The plan for the day was simple: relax as much as humanly possible in preparation for the hectic day that tomorrow would bring. I woke up that morning, made breakfast, and prepared for a day curled up on the couch with Luke and Isaac watching Christmas movies on the TV in our pajamas.

Of course, Luke had other ideas planned.

"Excuse me, Mister, but just where do you think that you're going?"

From where he was trying and failing to sneak past my bedroom door, Luke froze. He was clad in a heavy winter coat, his knitted gloves, and a puffy hat, obviously up to no good with the way he looked up at me with a sheepish expression. "Nowhere, mommy."

"Uh huh," I pursed my lips, hands resting on my hips. "And why are you dressed so warmly inside the house?"

It was obvious that he was having difficulty lying, but then something in his expression scrunched at the stern look on my face and words suddenly started flowing out of his mouth. "Claire told me about how she always makes a snowman around Christmastime and I never made one before but I really want to 'cause we have snow now, so can I make one? Please, mommy, _pleeeeaaase!_ "

Man, the wide, puppy-dog eyes were hard to resist, but as someone who's seen those eyes every day for six years, I was happy to announce that I had grown some semblance of a resistance to them. "Sweetie, it is way too cold outside for you to be running around and playing in the snow," I told him, reaching down to pull him into my arms. "You're going to catch a cold and then have to stay in bed on Christmas tomorrow without opening your presents. You don't want that, do you?"

"Nuh uh, I won't get sick!" He argued determinedly, turning in my arms to look me in the eye. He spoke with the confidence of someone who thought he knew what he was talking about, and I was honestly too amused to correct him. "Not if I wear my gloves like you always told me to do and then have hot cocoa after to warm me up!"

"You know," I said, pinching his slightly chubby cheek, "just because mommy used to argue for a living doesn't mean that you should try and outwit me, Mister."

He simply grinned widely, reaching out to hug my neck. Then he suddenly stopped and frowned in confusion, tiny fingers tugging at the thick collar of my shirt. "Where's your key, mommy?"

That was a really good question. The key had been missing for weeks now and I had searched the house from top to bottom in order to find it but effectively came up empty-handed. I had lost it around the same time that I had gone to the hospital, and I expected to find it somewhere in the living room or the yard, but it was nowhere to be found. If I had lost it in the yard, I figured that some wild animal had carted it off somewhere and I simply mourned its loss and moved on, but the empty feeling around my neck still felt more prominent than it should have been.

"I don't know," I said thoughtfully, leading him in the direction of the living room so that I could grab my coat and boots if he still wanted to go and play outside. "I lost it and couldn't find it when I looked. It's okay, though," I added when he gave me a sad look, "I'm just glad I haven't lost _you._ "

My words were effective; he giggled. "It's okay, mommy. I'll make you a new necklace and it'll be the best necklace in the whole wide world."

I kissed his cheek. "I bet it will be. Now, do you still want to go make your snowman, or what?"

He appeared to be thinking very hard about his answer and finally shook his head. "No, thank you," he replied, and then began to squirm as a signal to me that he wanted to be placed back on his feet. "I gotta make you a necklace for Christmas."

My heart felt full as I watched him trot to his bedroom, loudly humming some unidentifiable tune under his breath. With a shake of my head, I headed toward the kitchen to fix him his cup of hot chocolate – with that good soul he had, he deserved it.

"Hey," I stopped in the doorway of the living room to peer in at Isaac, who was lounging across the entirety of the couch in his pajamas. When he saw that I was leaning into the room, he lowered the volume of the TV and turned to me. "I'm making some hot chocolate. Do you want any?"

He nodded, standing and stretching his arms into the air. "Sure – extra marshmallows, please, if we have them. Do you need any help?" he asked, trailing after me into the kitchen. When I shook my head, he added, "Are you sure?"

"Not as if it's hard to make hot chocolate," I replied, "But I would like the company if you can pull yourself away from the TV for a few minutes – I know that those Hallmark Christmas movies are hard to miss, so I won't be offended if you want to get back to watching them for the rest of the day."

"Considering the fact that they've been rotating through like the same six movies for the past month and a half, I think I can miss one scene." Isaac plopped himself down onto one of the chairs at the table, stretching his arms out across the wood. "So, I know Christmas Eve always ends up being a lazy day for us since we always have to mentally prepare ourselves for Christmas Day, but what are our plans for tomorrow?"

I shrugged, pulling three mugs out of the cabinet as the water began boiling on the stove. "Same as every year, I suppose. We'll wake up early in the morning to open presents after we eat a nice breakfast – I was thinking about making pancakes, or maybe French toast if I feel up to it – and of course, Sam and Emily invited us to go over for Christmas dinner, so we'll be stopping by their place later."

"Hm – a busy day like it always is, then." His nose crinkled. "Is Paul still coming over tomorrow morning?"

"As far as I know," I said after a pause, frowning as the kettle began to whistle loudly on the stove. "He hasn't told me anything otherwise, so I'm assuming he still plans on coming over. Don't know what time he'll be here, though I assume it'll be a bit before breakfast. He always likes to come over early just to aggravate me."

Isaac shifted in his spot, obviously uncomfortable. "How are things going with you and Paul? Anything I should know – any happy announcements that should be made any time soon?"

I blanched, making a face. "Of course not. Paul and I are… well, I'm not really sure. I'm not sure what the protocol is for this type of situation – this half-friendship wariness with my supposed shape-shifter imprint. It's not like they make a book for this sort of thing." I frowned. "I mean, he wouldn't be spending Christmas morning with us if it wasn't going well – and I use the term 'well' in the sense meaning that we haven't had any knock-down, drag-out fights. Which is progress, I guess."

The expression on his face told me that he was struggling to hold his tongue – as if there was something that he wanted to say but didn't want to cross any boundaries, or maybe he simply couldn't find the words to sort out his thoughts. I waited patiently for him to speak, busying myself with adding the sweet-smelling cocoa powder to the steaming liquid in the mugs before dropping a handful of marshmallows into each.

When I passed him his mug, he spoke. "I can't stop thinking about what you said about the conversation that you had with Sam the other day. I know what you're going to say – that I shouldn't be worrying about things that don't concern me – but it's really been bothering me, Katherine. They're not stupid. If Sam knows, it's only a matter of time before Paul finds out that you're hiding something, too –"

My eyes narrowed, fingers clenching around the mugs in my hands. "Aiden, we talked about this already."

"I know, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he urged quickly, gesturing wildly with his hands in order to somehow emphasize his point. "You said it yourself that you and Paul are getting along really well, and he's supposed to be your soul mate anyway, right? Which means that you'll most likely be with him forever, so he's going to find out eventually. What are you going to do, get married to the guy and sleep next to him every night and make it so that he still doesn't know your real name?"

" _Aiden_!" I slammed the mugs on the table so harshly that the hot chocolate splashed over the rims. " _Stop it. Right now_. I don't want you to even so much as bring up the topic again; do you understand? No more. This is the end of it."

His eyes flashed. "Why?" he argued, not backing down like I expected he would. "We're hiding a huge secret for them so why can't they do the same for us? Sam was right – all you're going to do is cause everyone a lot of pain in the end. What the hell are you so afraid of?"

The tension in the room was high and I could feel my nerves being stretched a little too thin. It took all my willpower not to just yell in his face, telling him how he had no idea what he was talking about and that he was simply too young to understand… but this was Isaac. He knew me; he did understand. He may have been a teenager, but he was more observant and intelligent than I gave him credit for. He had hit the nail on the head, and from the look on his face he was beginning to realize it.

"That's it, isn't it?" he said in realization, drink all but forgotten as he stood. He was several inches taller than I was, with the embarrassingly lanky build of a teenager who hadn't quite grown into himself yet. "You're afraid. You keep saying it's against the law for us to tell anyone and that you're trying to keep everyone safe, but that isn't the whole story. You're just _scared._ "

My face burned in a combination of rage and shame.

"But why?" he added, mostly to himself. "Do you know something that I don't know – about De Palma, maybe? Or… are you afraid that he won't want to be with you when he finds out you're keeping things from him – which is total bullshit, by the way. He won't ever leave you so it's –"

I couldn't take anymore. The words came flooding out of my mouth more harshly than I actually intended, breathing heavily as if I had just sprinted ten miles. "Is it killing you? The fact that you can't simply comprehend the truth?" I spat in my fury. "Well let me enlighten you since you obviously think that you know what's best for this family. Say we tell them – any of them, all of them, or even just one of them – who we are. Maybe things will be fine for a while – peaceful, no secrets? Whatever, right? We explain and things are all incredible and everyone really understands and it just turns into this happy ending. But guess what: someone who's out to hurt us will eventually find out or someone will let something slip and the Marshall Service will get wind that we're spreading the word around. Guess what happens after that."

He stared at me, mouth partially open in surprise at the anger in my tone.

" _We will have to leave!_ " I shouted, voice rising with every word. "Pack up everything and leave to another place without saying goodbye to anyone. We would have to change who we are again and move to a new place under new names and we would _never_ _be able to come back here. Ever._ So you know what? Congratulations. Yes, you were right. I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified of what will happen if we say anything. One wrong move and everything we have here will just fall apart. I refuse – _utterly refuse –_ to let us destroy the life we've built here, and if it means that we can all continue to have a good life in La Push, _I'll take the secret to my fucking grave."_

oOo

The edges of the blanket felt rough under the tips of my fingers; the makeshift patchwork quilt felt warm though not as comforting as it usually was. Heavy lumps of snow fluttered against the living room window, sending a chill throughout the room despite the fire in the hearth that sent a hearty glow across the walls. The clock on the far wall told me that it was nearly midnight, and I was utterly drained. I had tried to get some rest several hours ago – knowing that I would be waking up in the early morning because of a rambunctious child – but my brain refused to shut down.

Instead I found myself dragging my blanket through the house and to the living room sofa, where I sat and stared at the cell phone clutched in my hand for much longer than I actually should have. Paul's name stared up at me on the dim screen, and my fingers kept hovering over the 'Call' button before I eventually chickened out and changed my mind. It would be stupid to call him so late, no matter how much I wanted to speak with him. He was probably asleep, like normal people were, and I would see him in the morning, after all.

But… I don't know. A part of me wanted to hear his voice, to seek that comfort that speaking to him brought to me.

Without waiting for a chance to second guess myself and chicken out of doing what I actually wanted to do, I dialed the number on the phone and pressed it to my ear. It rang several times, enough for me to want to hang up and pretend I had never called at all, but before I could give up, Paul's voice emerged from over the line. He sounded groggy, as if I had just woken him up from a deep sleep. "Hello?"

"Hey," I chewed hesitantly on my lip. "It's me."

"Katherine?" I heard the rustling of sheets on the other end of the line, as if he was shifting around in his bed to glance at the clock that I knew was sitting on his bedside table. "It's pretty late. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's completely fine," I was quick to reassure him, fingers absently twiddling with the stray pieces of thread hanging on the edges of the blanket. "I couldn't sleep and I wanted to – I mean, I didn't want to wake you up, but…" I swallowed. "I just couldn't sleep. I'm sorry."

There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line that lasted long enough for me to believe that he had fallen asleep and hadn't actually heard a thing that I had said, but then he replied, "You don't have to feel bad about calling. I'm here any time you need me. What's wrong?"

"I got in a fight with Aiden this morning," I admitted, nervously biting one of my fingernails. "He's holed himself up in his room and hasn't come down ever since. I'm not used to fighting with my brother so I guess the silent treatment is bothering me a lot more than it actually should. I mean, he's a teenager so I guess should expect temper tantrums, but… I just don't like it."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. Then he yawned, voice laced with the hazy daze of someone who was struggling to keep himself awake. "What did the two of you fight about?"

 _You. Everything. Everything that I wish with all my heart that I could tell you, but I don't have the courage to do so because I'm a greedy coward._ "We've been arguing back and forth about something ever since we moved here. It's stupid, and we've had the discussion a thousand times before. I was just so furious that he kept bringing it up that I just snapped. I've never yelled at him like that before," I murmured, angrily rubbing at my eyes. "Then he stormed off and now I feel awful because I know he means well but he doesn't _understand._ He doesn't… know what I know. Does that make sense?"

"I think it makes perfect sense," Paul said. "I'm sure Aiden understands a lot more than you give him credit for. He's a very intelligent kid. Whatever your argument was about, I'm sure that some part of him understands that you're only trying to protect him or do what's best for him. He won't be mad at you forever."

"How can you be so sure?"

"This may come as a sudden surprise to you, but I used to be a teenage guy, too, so I have a pretty good idea of how he's feeling right now," he explained. On the other side of the receiver, I heard the squeak of bedsprings as he moved. "If you yelled at him like you said you did then I can tell you with full assurance that his pride is probably hurt. Just give him some time to nurse his own wounds and I'm sure he'll come around before you know it."

I didn't exactly hold Paul's confidence, but I guess that, being a guy, he had a better idea of how Isaac's brain worked than I did. Plus, I was pretty happy that he didn't press for an explanation about the argument, so I was practically ready to agree with everything he said. "I guess."

"Do you need me?" Paul's question was immediate and rushed, and I supposed that he probably heard the doubt in my voice. "If you need me to come over, I could be there in like ten minutes. Five, if I skip the truck and just run."

I barked out a laugh because _of course_ that would be his response. With a single word from me, Paul would probably jump out of his bed and be at my front door in a heartbeat. I almost let the word 'yes' slip out of my mouth without any sort of hesitation whatsoever, ready to let him drag himself through the wind and the snow just to soothe my own unease. Then I stopped myself. I had already called and woken him in the middle of the night. No need to burden him any further by making him come over, even though I knew he would say that it wouldn't be an issue. "As much as I'd love to have your company, I'll pass. It's getting pretty late and I need to – I don't know. Try and get some sleep, I guess."

"You're sure that you're going to be okay? That you don't need me to come over and give you a bit of company?"

His concern was positively touching, and I felt my heart beat a little faster against my ribcage. "Yeah, I'll be completely fine, I promise. I'm a pretty tough girl, you know. I can take care of myself."

"And yet you called me in the middle of the night just to talk," he mused. "Hm."

"Yeah, well," I looked down at my lap in what felt like an unsteady combination of both pure guilt and shame, clenching my jaw before admitting, "I think I really just needed to hear your voice." Then I cleared my throat, cheeks burning. "But don't go and get the wrong idea about that, Lahote."

I expected him to sound cocky in his response, but his voice showed nothing but understanding and kindness. "Of course not."

Feeling both angry and disappointed for reasons that I couldn't quite explain, I slightly wished that he _had_ said something sarcastic and biting and smug. It would have made it easier for me to handle – lessened the guilt that I felt in a way that I could have just balled it up and shoved it inside my chest to deal with at another time. "I think I'm going to go and try to get some sleep. You're still coming over in the morning, right?"

At the mention of sleep, he yawned again. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. I'll be over at around seven. Or maybe eight; I have to run a quick errand before I come over but I'm not sure how long it's going to take. Is that okay?"

"That's perfect," I answered. "I'm looking forward to it."

"So am I." There was a heavy pause, neither of us quite willing to end the conversation and say goodbye so quickly. "Katherine," the voice was whispered in a breath of air from his lips, the passion in that single word sending a chill up my spine, "everything is going to be okay."

His words made me believe that he knew a lot more than he let on, or maybe that he knew my worries were about a lot more than just a silly fight with my brother that would surely blow over as the days went passed. My hand fell limply into my lap as one of the logs in the fireplace cracked to cinders from the heat. "I hope you're right."

Later, when we had both begrudgingly hung up our phones and I pulled myself through the house to my bed with my blanket dragging across the floors, I fell asleep with Paul's rumbling voice still ringing in my ear and a heavy feeling of dreadful anticipation settling in my heart.

* * *

 _Next Time:_ _In which there's an adorable present wrapped with a single red ribbon and Seth discovers three unfamiliar names thanks to a little help from Isaac._


	26. Strange Feelings Come to Light

_This chapter came out kicking and screaming – especially the beginning. Ugh. Enjoy it anyway, though! Thank you for all the lovely reviews and your endless patience with me!_

oOo

Chapter 26:

" _Tell the truth, or someone will tell it for you." – Stephanie Klein,_ _Straight Up and Dirty_

At six o'clock the next morning, exactly as I had expected and relayed to Paul the night before, I found myself being forcibly shaken awake by the eager six-year old that jumped into my bed. "Mommy, you have to wake up! It's Christmas! Santa came last night and left presents!"

It felt as if I had only just fallen asleep when my door had slammed open, so I had to resist the urge to groan and bury my head under the pillow. Instead, I simply listened to Luke babble on and on about the presents under the tree as I pulled myself into a sitting position. The sun coming from the window was much too bright, the air much too cold, and the time much too early.

But of course, I knew that I had no chance of getting back to sleep with the curly-haired bundle beaming excitedly at me, so I pushed back my covers and regretfully placed my bare feet on the freezing floor. Grunting slightly as a halfhearted way to tell Luke that I was still listening to what he was saying, I slipped my feet into the slippers sitting next to my bed and threw my robe around my shoulders. "Might as well go start making breakfast, huh?" I asked him, giving him a lazy tap on his nose.

He nodded quickly, stretching up his arms as a signal for me to lift him into the air. I held him on my hip as I began pulling a pan and several bowls out of the cabinets to make a special breakfast for the day, and when the smell of cinnamon and vanilla began to permeate through the air, Isaac trudged down the stairs and joined us.

He was oddly quiet in a way that, frankly, made me nervous, especially after the argument that we had the day before. From the way he kept his line of sight on a scuff-mark on the table, I figured that he decided to keep his thoughts to himself for the day, a fact of which I couldn't be more grateful. He could have whatever opinion he wanted, as long as he kept it to himself to prevent any fights between us on Christmas. Suffice to say, however, because of his determination to keep his mouth shut, breakfast was awkwardly silent. The only person that seemed to be oblivious to the tension was Luke, who was understandably more excited about opening presents to notice that anything was wrong with the rest of his family members.

I settled myself at the table with a cup of coffee and a half eaten plate of French toast in front of me, hoping that the tense atmosphere would dissolve by the time that Paul arrived - or at the least, by the time that we were scheduled to head over to the Uley's. _Eventually_ , I mentally repeated to myself, _everything would eventually fall into place and it would just be like every other Christmas and things would go back to normal._

Hopefully.

But then, by the time Paul had actually arrived at around 7:30, I had lost control of the house. As it turned out, there were only so many puppy-dog eyes that I could take from an adorable child before I simply broke down, gestured to the presents under the tree, and said, "Have at it, kiddo."

The previously spotless living room was covered in wrapping paper and shining ribbons by the time I ushered Paul into the house, and he raised an amused eyebrow when he saw the huge mess that littered the floors. There was a present in his hands – a medium-sized gift wrapped primly in blue paper with a silver bow adorning its top. The paper crinkled as he moved it under his arm, following me into the living room like a lost puppy. "Looks like you got the party started a little early, huh?"

"Sorry about that," I grimaced, hands on my hips as I surveyed the room with a sigh. My eyes trailed over where Luke was lounging across the floor and playing with two action figures, and where Isaac was intently reading the manual to a new game console. "I wanted to wait for you to get here before we got started, but Thomas kept begging me to see what Santa brought so I couldn't hold them back any longer. I told them to have fun and not make a mess, but you can see how well they followed my instructions."

He laughed, reaching out to pull me to his chest in a one-armed hug that I returned without a second thought. "Kids on Christmas," he said conspiratorially, as if his words were some sort of explanation for their behavior. "What can you do?" Then part of his grin suddenly fell and his grip around me tightened, voice lowering an octave as he asked, "Are you okay?"

I knew that he was referring to our late-night conversation, but I also knew that Christmas Day was not exactly the time to be discussing such an emotional topic. "I'm fine," I told him. "Just a bit exhausted since I woke up pretty early to make breakfast. I think that I feel a bit better now that I -"

"Mr. Paul!" An excited, bullet-like object shot across the room, slamming into Paul's legs hard enough that it would have made the tall man stumble backwards if he hadn't instinctively caught onto the doorframe for support. "Merry Christmas!" Luke shouted. "Did you bring presents?"

"Thomas!" I hissed, gaping down at the boy with a scowl on my face. "That's rude! Apologize right now!"

Thoroughly scolded, he lowered his head and muttered a half-hearted apology, but Paul simply gave him a pat on the head. "Merry Christmas, kiddo," he said, eyes twinkling slightly with amusement. "And as a matter of fact, I did bring a present for you and your uncle, but I'm afraid that this one -" he gestured to the box in his hand, " – is for your mom."

"I got mommy a present, too! I made it all by myself," he told Paul proudly, pointing up toward my neck. "Look, she's wearing it!"

Automatically I reached up and fiddled with the soft string that was tied around my neck – a makeshift necklace made up entirely of multicolored plastic beads that Luke had wrapped in several pieces of construction paper and placed under the tree the night before. Paul's eyes followed the movement of my hand, and his grin widened. "Wow, and you made that all by yourself?"

"Yep!" he beamed. "Because she lost her other necklace and was really sad about it," he babbled quickly, "so I made her an even better one. She gave me lots of good presents, too, and so did Santa."

Paul suddenly looked serious. "Do you think you'll be able to handle one more present for the day?"

Luke nodded eagerly, practically bouncing on his feet. "Yeah!"

"Then you'll have to get your coat because I had to leave your present in the car," he said. "You'll have to go and get it yourself to see what it is."

Paul had barely finished his sentence before Luke had turned on his heel and bolted up the stairs. "Don't forget to put on shoes!" I called out, probably to deaf ears. To Paul, I said, "You didn't have to get him anything. He's spoiled enough as it is, so he honestly doesn't need any more presents today."

"I don't mind in the slightest," he replied. When he spotted Isaac sitting silently on the couch, still pointedly ignoring us, he raised an eyebrow. I simply shook my head, fingers twiddling with the silver ribbon. "Besides, it isn't just for him. It's for Aiden, too."

Isaac barely looked up from the sound of his false name, too engrossed in whatever he was reading to pay us any attention, but he did say, "Is it whatever you left in your car?"

"Yes, actually," Paul confirmed, lips twitching in amusement. "Your sister might not be a big fan of it, but I think you'll like it."

Those words didn't exactly reassure me, and I ended up gazing up at Paul in blatant suspicion, but Isaac finally looked up with interest dawning over his features. "What is it, then?"

Paul shrugged. "Guess you'll just have to go outside and see."

Isaac looked torn. On one hand, he could get another Christmas present that could potentially annoy me to no end; on the other hand, he would have to share said present with his nephew. After several awkward moments where I assumed he was contemplating what the present could possibly be, he stood and went to grab his coat.

"Alright," I turned to Paul. "I'll bite. What's the special gift you got them that I supposedly won't like?"

He merely shook his head. "You'll have to wait and see. But for now…" his voice trailed off and he pushed forward the package in his grip, placing it in my waiting hands. "Merry Christmas."

The gift was small but slightly heavier than I had originally expected, and I simply stared at the dark blue and silver wrapping with pursed lips. "I told you that you didn't have to buy me anything."

"Like I would actually choose not to give you a gift," he scoffed. "And technically, you told me not to buy you a music box – which I didn't."

I shook my head but conceded, gently placing the package on the coffee table and sidestepping the mess on the floor to move over to the tree. Dropping onto my knees, I reached down and pulled out a long package wrapped in green paper, and finally emerged from under the tree holding up the package triumphantly. "For you," I said, shoving the gift in his direction. "It's not much, but…" I shrugged one of my shoulders. "Emily gave me the idea since I didn't know what to get you and I figured that it would be something that you could use –"

"Ready!" Luke had appeared at the bottom of the steps and was looking up at us expectantly, his coat buttoned incorrectly and wearing his shoes without socks. Paul simply chuckled as I knelt in exasperation and leaned down to fix his coat, and Isaac trudged down the stairs with his pajama pants poking out from the top of his boots.

Paul tossed Isaac the keys to his truck, which he caught in midair. "Should be on the backseat."

Isaac nodded and the two boys traipsed their way outside, while Paul turned to me and said, "Thanks for the gift. Also, please don't hate me when you realize what I got for them. Know that it was out of the goodness of my heart."

"Okay, now I'm scared." I crossed my arms over my chest. "What could you possibly have gotten them that was so bad?"

I didn't even have to wait for Paul to give me an answer, because from outside came the click of a car door and the sound of very high-pitched barking. It took my brain a few seconds to recognize the sound, but when I did, I turned to Paul with a look of disbelief. "You didn't," I deadpanned. "Please tell me that you didn't do what I think you did."

Paul's sheepish expression would have been more convincing if he hadn't had such a shit-eating grin. "I did."

"Paul!" I hissed, incredulous. "I cannot _believe_ that you would –"

And then came the cry of delight from outside, and I had to resist the urge to bang my head against the wall – or to smack Paul. "Mommy, mommy! Paul got us a puppy!"

"I can't believe you."

He shrugged. "I have a friend whose German shepherd had puppies and he asked me if I wanted one. I figured, why the hell not, you know?"

Damn. I had always been a sucker for German shepherds because they were absolutely beautiful animals, but I didn't point that out to Paul. Especially since I was too busy being mad at him and I didn't want to see the smug look that would inevitably appear on his face. "You realize that you're going to be his favorite person now, right?"

"I'm cool with that."

"Look, mommy!" Luke was bouncing happily on his feet next to Isaac, who was holding a black and brown ball of fur in his hands. The tiny puppy was looking around curiously, bright red ribbon tied around its neck like a collar and tongue hanging out of its mouth. "A puppy!"

"I see it," I gave him a weary smile. "What do we say when we get a gift, hon?"

"Thank you, Mr. Paul!" he said, beaming. "This is the best gift ever!"

I sighed, and Paul's grin widened again – if that was even possible, since he was already smiling so widely that I thought his cheeks would crack. "No problem, kiddo. You just have to promise me to take good care of him, okay? And figure out a good name, too."

He nodded eagerly as Isaac placed the puppy on the ground, and I shook my head in complete exasperation as the dog happily began to trot around the room to explore his new home. The two boys followed the dog into the living room, the rest of their Christmas presents basically forgotten.

"I literally cannot believe this," I said as I turned back to Paul, tossing my hands in the air as I moved into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of hot coffee. "I put my blood, sweat, and tears into picking out the perfect presents for this year, and they're all but forgotten in the span of ten seconds. How is that even possible?"

Paul settled in one of the chairs at the kitchen table with a satisfied look on his face. "Never underestimate how much a tiny animal can take a kid's attention from practically everything else in the world. Hopefully what I'm giving you will make up for your annoyance with the fact that I gave them a dog."

"Do you mind if we open them later tonight?" I asked after a moment, tapping my fingers against the side of my mug of coffee. At his nod of agreement, I added, "I've about had my share of surprising presents for now. We'll just deal with them later." Then I cleared my throat, gesturing my head toward the pristinely packaged gift. "Anything I should prepare myself for?"

"Just the undying gratitude that you're going to feel for me later," he said, winking. "I'm sure it's going to render you speechless."

"Awfully proud of yourself, then," I wryly stated, bringing my mug up to my lips. "I'll have you know that I have never been at a loss for words my entire life. It would take something pretty damn great for me to not know what to say."

His returning smile was knowing and sly. "I think I've got just the thing to do it."

oOo

In the living room of the Uley house, Isaac Perdue was plotting.

He felt a bit like some sort of super secret spy – one of those really awesome FBI agents that Audrey occasionally came into contact with when she worked for the Department of Justice. He was mentally threading together a mischievous scheme while Audrey remained contentedly oblivious. Yes, very spy-like. Practically James Bond, just without the guns and hot girls and general dangerous atmosphere. Granted, it wasn't exactly the most elaborate plan in the world, but the details weren't very important. No, the _result_ was important – the result and his contact.

Isaac knew that the person he chose to be his metaphorical contact had to be picked carefully. It would have to be someone that he trusted that would subsequently be subtle enough to keep the news quiet until the time was right. Someone smart. Someone logical. He needed someone who would understand – or at least, would _try_ to understand in a way that his sister just couldn't.

Because he just couldn't keep it inside him any longer.

In the end, he concluded that Seth Clearwater would be the logical choice. Any of the adults would just end up confronting Audrey about it, leading to a whole mess that he really didn't have the patience to deal with. Collin and Brady had originally been options, but Isaac eventually scratched them off of his mental list. They meant well, of course, but they didn't exactly think before they spoke and he didn't want to take the chance that they accidentally let something slip, which would inevitably make the word get out to the wrong people at the wrong time. No, Seth definitely was the best choice out of his few options. Smart, able to keep his mouth shut when it counted, and about as loyal as a golden retriever.

Yes, Seth would do. The tricky part was… how was he supposed to get the information to Seth without Audrey discovering his plan?

Audrey had been watching him like a hawk from the very moment that they had stepped into Emily's house that evening on Christmas Day. He didn't know what she was expecting to see; their conversation had made it clear that he wasn't allowed to say anything, so did she really think he would go so far as to just spill their whole story while everyone was listening? No, he wasn't stupid. And he wouldn't be the one to tell the story, but that didn't mean he couldn't… drop a few hints to push Seth in the right direction.

So while everyone spent their time celebrating the day or snacking on the feast that Emily had made, Isaac plotted and waited for the perfect opportunity to pass on his hint.

The hint was simply a piece of paper – a tiny slip that he had ripped from a half-finished homework assignment from school with hastily scribbled words that were the key to the whole story. The paper was burning a hole in his pocket and he had to keep patting his jeans to reassure himself that it was still there. It would be a disaster if it suddenly slipped out and someone discovered it.

Well, at least it would make for a hell of an entertaining Christmas.

The thought made a slightly grim smirk appear on his lips.

As it turned out, Isaac didn't get his chance until nearly midnight, when Audrey entered the room with a passed out Luke in her arms to tell him that they were about to head home. His nod told her that he had heard what she had said, and she had left the room to go and say her goodbyes. It was then that Isaac took his chance.

He moved across the room to where Seth was chatting with his mother, and gently tapped him on the arm. "Hey, man," he greeted the grinning boy, giving a smile to Mrs. Clearwater as he approached. "My sister said we're about to leave so I just thought I'd come to say goodbye."

"Already?"

"Afraid so," he shrugged. "Today kind of wiped us all out and I think we're all looking forward to spending the entirety of tomorrow recuperating or whatever."

"I'm really glad you guys came," he said kindly, slapping Isaac on the shoulder in a brotherly way. "And that everything eventually worked out with your sister and stuff. We've all been hoping that things were going to go back to normal, so I'm happy that they're, you know, not out of their minds anymore."

"I am, too," he replied with a slight laugh, reaching out a hand for Seth to shake. "Well, I'll see you guys soon, I'm guessing. Thanks for inviting us."

"No problem, Aid," Seth said, grabbing Isaac's hand in his own warm one.

When their palms grasped and Seth's smile suddenly turned into a confused frown, Isaac quickly pulled him into a hug, giving him a rough pat on the back and a whisper in his ear that was so soft that Seth barely heard it, " _Keep it to yourself._ "

And then Isaac moved away as if nothing had happened, giving both Seth and his mother a contented wave as he headed out the door to join his family.

Covert operations, indeed.

oOo

Way back in the nineties when desktop computers had just become widely available to the general public, most houses had a specific room dedicated to their computers. They were called "Computer rooms," because the computer monitor and the rest of the hardware usually took up so much space that there wasn't much room for anything else. As the years went by, technology became smaller and more compact, but these technological advancements simply passed over the Clearwater household. They couldn't exactly afford a brand new computer when they had one that worked perfectly well, even if it was over ten years old and it took practically half an hour to load up and connect to their horrible Internet connection.

It didn't matter much to him, anyway. Seth barely used the computer and neither did Leah. Really, the only one who used it was their mother, and she only braved the old contraption when she happened to be sending a rare email to her relatives on the Makah reservation, and that was usually only when she couldn't be bothered to take the long trip to visit them.

But now, Seth found himself sneaking down to their computer room after everyone had gone to sleep and turning on the dinosaur that his mother called a computer. He sat in the uncomfortable swivel chair with his feet propped up on the desk, staring into space and twirling a suspicious piece of paper in his fingers as he waited for it to turn on. It took twenty minutes for the computer to load, then another fifteen to connect to the Internet, and finally, about ten minutes for web browser to actually head to the search engine he wanted, but Seth eventually found himself staring at the Google homepage with his fingers hovering over the keyboard.

With a wrinkled nose, he slowly typed, _Audrey, Isaac, and Lucas Perdue._

The names were unfamiliar to him. He had never heard of these people before, but they must have been important for Isaac to go to such covert lengths to give him the information. He was suspicious from the very moment that he felt the piece of paper slip into his hand during his handshake with his friend, but the nervous look on Isaac's face stopped him from asking any questions. He hoped that nothing was wrong and his friend didn't get himself into some kind of trouble, but if he had, why would he be telling Seth about it?

 _Keep it to yourself,_ Isaac had said. The names? Seth figured that Isaac wanted him to look further into the topic, but what was the point? Who were the three people whose names were written on that tiny piece of paper?

On the screen, the search results finally loaded and Seth found him staring at several different news articles. The first one, titled _'Tragedy in Coldwell Condominiums'_ was dated over six months ago. It was this link that he clicked on, and he waited patiently for the page to load. When it did, he began reading.

' _Yesterday afternoon, esteemed attorney Audrey Perdue was found dead in her apartment in the high class dwellings of Coldwell Condominiums, a tiny niche in the Washington, D.C. area. Miss Perdue, 23, and her teenage brother and adolescent son, were victims of a faulty generator that had exploded in the apartment complex and sent the building into flames, having been trapped when rubble from the explosion kept them from getting out of their home._

 _Miss Perdue has recently reached acclaim in the case with suspected mob affiliate Frankie De Palma, the recently convicted and subsequently escaped convict responsible for the death of Miss Eleanor Mariani, who was killed in the beginning of January at her family's vacation home. No news has been reported that hints at the theory that Miss Perdue's death has anything to do with De Palma's recent escape._

 _We have yet to receive any information except the confirmation of death from Police Chief Bradley Hollows, but this reporter has managed to get this statement during a press conference from Miss Perdue's former boss – and to some, her suspected lover, though those rumors have never been confirmed – Daniel Callaghan, age 28._

" _We are missing an integral part of our department now that Audrey is no longer with us," the man said, voice oddly emotionless. "I speak for all of us when I say that we are deeply saddened, and the world is missing several brilliant minds now that she and her family are gone. Their deaths were a tragic accident that could have easily been prevented, and though they will be greatly missed, we are very happy that there were no other casualties. We at the Department of Justice will be making sure that their deaths are not in vain."_

 _Mr. Callaghan, the head of several teams of lawyers at the Department of Justice for several years after his graduation from Harvard School of Law, refused to say anything more on the subject, and walked away from the podium amidst shouting questions and flashing photography._ '

Seth frowned and stopped reading because he simply didn't understand. What was the point of this? Were these people important somehow? Had Aiden known them personally and felt that Seth should know about them, too?

He scrolled down, half-heartedly skimming the rest of the article and subsequent links that involved the Perdue family, and he was just about ready to shut off the computer and head to bed when he saw it: a picture that was put at the very bottom of the article that showed the three people who were known to be Audrey, Isaac, and Lucas Perdue.

" _Holy. Fucking. Shit._ "

oOo

"That went… a lot better than I expected."

The Christmas celebration at the Uley's was… shockingly uneventful, just like Paul said it would be. No one made any mention of what had been happening over the last few weeks, and if they had any opinions on how I was suddenly accepted back into the fold without question, they kept their thoughts to themselves. I couldn't say if Paul had something to do with their kindness, or if they truly didn't care and were willingly ready to accept me back into their tight circle – pack, they called it – but either way, I was grateful.

"I told you that it wouldn't be that big of a deal." Paul's voice was hushed, patiently following me up the stairs with a passed out Luke in his arms and the new puppy – that had eventually been named Oliver by Isaac when he had gotten frustrated that Luke couldn't decide on a name – trying to hop up the stairs behind us. "They understand – like I've told you a thousand times by now."

I pushed open the door to Luke's room and, with a sideways glance and an unhappy frown at Isaac's closed bedroom door, allowed Paul to step in front of me to put the young boy in his bed. "Still doesn't make it any less weird."

But Paul was already changing the subject, having seen my glance toward Isaac's room. As he quickly pulled back the superhero covered blankets on Luke's bed with his free hand while I dug in the dresser for the sleeping boy's pajamas, he said, "You need to stop stressing about your brother before you drive yourself crazy. He's going to come around."

"It's not even that, anymore," I stated, shutting the dresser drawer more harshly than I intended. "He's just been acting weird all day. It's unsettling and I can't put my finger on why." I lowered my voice and added, almost entirely to myself, "He's up to something. I know he is. I just can't figure out _what._ "

And I had my suspicions, of course, but I highly doubted that he would go so far as to… I don't know. Risk our safety. Spill a bunch of secrets that could potentially cause a lot of damage. No. He wouldn't do that. He wasn't _stupid._

"You're too paranoid for your own good. Stop looking at the worst case scenario." Paul gently passed Luke into my arms, scooped up the expectant puppy from the floor and placed him gently on the bed, and added, "I'll wait for you downstairs."

I nodded with pursed lips, doing my very best to take Luke out of his day clothes and slip him into his pajamas without jostling him. When I had him all tucked into bed with his stuffed bunny and the new dog - at that, I sighed in exasperation - and gave him a kiss on the forehead, I tiptoed out of the room and stopped in the hallway, studying the old wooden door that led into Isaac's room. For a second, I debated on knocking and going to talk to him, but decided against it at the last minute. I doubted that he would take too kindly to my meddling, so I simply continued walking down the stairs to where Paul was waiting for me.

I flopped down onto the sofa beside him like I had done so many times before, pulling my knees up to my chest and letting out a slight sigh when the clock on the wall informed me of the late hour. "Thomas is out cold, and I feel like I could probably join him if I let myself. I'm exhausted," I announced, letting my head fall lazily to the side to rest on the back of the couch.

Paul leaned forward the plucked the two presents from where they waited on the coffee table, pointedly placing mine in my lap. "Well try to hold off your tiredness for a while because I still have to render you speechless before the night ends."

"I guess we'll just have to see, huh?" My fingers traced over the pretty wrapping paper curiously, watching as his arm flexed when he stretched it across the back of the couch. "You first," I said.

"You sure?" At my confirmation, he shrugged and slipped his finger under the tape to tear into the wrappings. When he saw what was sitting on top of the small pile of gifts, he laughed. " _How to: Not Be a Douchebag, for Dummies,_ " he read aloud, grinning widely. "Perfect. Just what I needed, if your opinion is anything to go by."

I bit my bottom lip to hide my grin, urging him to continue unwrapping his gift. "Okay, so maybe that was a last ditch attempt at being spiteful, but it made me laugh when I bought it." I nudged his shoulder with my hand, automatically scooting closer as I leaned forward. "Keep going."

With a shake of his head, he pulled out what, at first glance, appeared to be a large piece of folded white broadcloth. When he picked it up, it opened to reveal a dressy, button-up shirt, from the pocket of which was the top of what I knew was a gift card. "A shirt?"

"To replace the one that was ruined the night I broke my wrist," I clarified. "I think it'll fit, but if it doesn't, just let me know and I can replace it." He pulled the card out of the pocket and studied it and raised a confused eyebrow, so I added, "Emily and I were talking about how you guys go through clothes all the time, so I thought it would be pretty useful. You can replace all the clothes you tear apart when you… what do you call it? Phase?"

He slapped the card against his open palm, shaking his head in amusement. "You've really given this a lot of thought, haven't you?" When I shrugged, he leaned forward and pulled me into his chest in a lazy attempt at a hug. "Thank you. This is very thoughtful." But then he pulled away only a fraction of an inch and gave me a mischievous look. "Your turn."

I rolled my eyes in his direction but turned my attention to the present, shifting so that I was no longer leaning against him, though I could still feel the warmth coming off of his arm through my shirt. "Let's get this over with," I said, gently ripping into the paper under Paul's watchful and expectant gaze. When the wrappings had fallen away and I came face to face with a taped white box, I said, "This isn't one of those silly gag gifts where I open it and it's just going to be another box, right?"

"No, but that's actually a good idea," he said thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "I might save that for one of the guys next year."

"Yeah," I replied, lifting the lid off of the box and shoving aside the red tissue paper to reveal the gift, "just don't tell them that you got the idea from me, because I don't think they would ever let me live it… down."

At first, I didn't quite register what was sitting inside the box, nestled amongst layers of the soft tissue paper. All I could see was the top of a polished brown box and the simple, swirling designs that adorned its top. I sent a sideways look of befuddlement to Paul, but he was looking at the gift, waiting for me to take it out of its packaging. So I did, gently cradling the little box in my hands like it was something precious, my eyes studying the carvings around its base.

Then I opened it, and I realized. My breath hitched in my throat as a familiar melody began to play, the tinkling little notes that always accompanied the song within a music box.* It was different than the one from my childhood that I had described to Paul. Instead of black and gold, this one was a dark brown, covered with intricate designs made by determined hands. The satin inside of it was red, and in the very center was not two glass children, but a tiny figurine of a child petting a wolf.

And through it all, the music was still the same.

"I know what you're thinking," Paul said, "and I didn't break my promise. I didn't spend a penny on it, I swear. I made it myself, the wolf in it and everything. Well, maybe that's not entirely true – the only thing I bought was the device that plays the music, which I got from an antique shop in Port Angeles, but everything else was hand made."

I was completely floored. I legitimately didn't expect for him to go so far as to… do something so kind, so thoughtful and genuine. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, fingers gently tracing over the tiny spinning figurine on the inside of the box. "I -" My voice cracked slightly, so I cleared my throat and tried again. "It looks like you succeeded after all," I said weakly. "I… I don't know what to say."

"Not exactly speechless, but I'll take it," he conceded. Then – "I know you said that I didn't need to get you one – or in this case, _make_ you one – but I thought about it and I figured that… it was something that you loved, right? And if it was something that you loved, the memory of it shouldn't be related to something painful. I thought that you could use this one to make some new memories. Some _happy_ memories, here in La Push."

I stared at him in awe, his words taking me so much by surprise that every time I opened my mouth, I found that I had absolutely nothing to say. A wave of unbridled, unfamiliar, and… quite frankly, _scary_ emotions ran through the pit of my chest, threading through my veins and sending a shiver up my spine. Later, when the endless regret set in and the euphoria in my stomach had faded away, I would say that those emotions – ones I had never experienced before – were responsible for my actions.

Because I would like to think that if I were actually in my right mind, I wouldn't have forcibly grabbed Paul by the collar and kissed him. But as it was, I _wasn't_ in my right mind and I _did_ kiss him, without any regard for the consequences that would eventually arise.

I don't really know how it started, but one moment I was staring up at Paul's handsome face and the next, I had leaned forward to set the music box on the coffee table to prevent it from breaking and then grabbed his shirt with both hands. We… well, we fumbled, to say the least. Neither of us had been expecting it and I wasn't exactly a 'natural' at the whole kissing thing since I didn't actually make it a point to go out and make out with a bunch of guys, so I was at a loss – but Paul didn't seem to mind very much. As a matter of fact, he didn't seem to mind at all.

A noise of surprise left his mouth when I slammed our lips together, and he accidentally bit my lip when our teeth clashed together at my sudden movements. It was clumsy and strange and something that I had never done with anyone else before, but… at the time, it seemed to be the only way for me to convey what I was feeling, and I think he got the message in a way that I simply couldn't express in words.

The kiss was over just as quickly as it had started, and I pulled away from him in a slight daze. My fingers were still threaded through the fabric of his shirt and I came back to reality slowly, not quite in the moment but completely lost in thought as an amazed expression took over Paul's face.

It was obvious that neither of us knew quite what to say, and in a way, I think that was fine. As it happened, some moments were better left to be experienced in complete and utter silence, without words, and when the only things to feel were the goosebumps across your skin and the air brushing across your cheek.

And as it turned out, even when we both _tried_ to speak, we never got the chance. There was a quick and slightly harsh knocking at the front door that made me jump away from Paul as if I had just been caught by a disappointed parent. Paul frowned but didn't say a word when I stood and headed to the door, unnecessarily smoothing down my already immaculate shirt.

Seth was the one who waited behind the door, bouncing back and forth almost nervously on the balls of his feet. He was also shirtless and shoeless, which told me that he had to have come here in the fastest sort of transportation he had – his wolf counterpart. He grinned when I opened the door, but he didn't quite reach his eyes. "Uh, hey Katherine!"

I stared at him in disbelief. "Seth, what the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at home?"

"Yes, he should be." Paul appeared at my shoulder like a sudden phantom, a heavy force to be reckoned with when his arms crossed over his broad chest. "What's wrong?"

It was obvious to both of us that Seth hadn't expected to see Paul, and his fake smile slid off of his face. His tan cheeks turned slightly red, and in the face of Paul's intimidation techniques he ended up stuttering an explanation that sounded suspiciously like, "I need to talk to Aiden."

"It's nearly two in the morning," I pointed out. "What could you possibly have to talk to him about that couldn't wait until normal daylight hours?"

"Um," his eyes flickered back to Paul before settling on me again. "It's seriously important – like I honestly wouldn't be here if it wasn't important."

"Okay," I replied slowly, "well is it something that I can help you with?"

He smiled weakly. "Not really, no." He cleared his throat. "I promise that I won't be long – it'll only take me a few minutes, at most."

The look on his face was so nervous and intense that I felt sorry for him, so I simply stepped aside and allowed him past. "He's in his room. Make it quick."

Seth was already halfway up the stairs when he called out, "Thanks!" There was the sound of eager knocking, the opening of the door, a harsh, " _What the fuck, man?_ " and finally, silence as the door was shut once more.

"Can you hear what they're saying?" I asked Paul, seeing that his gaze was focused on the ceiling.

He narrowed his eyes in thought. "I have no idea. Something about a news article, I think? But I'm not sure. They're both being really quiet – and Aiden just put on the radio, so I can't really hear anything now except for music."

"Does Seth normally act like that?"

"Seth is…" he shook his head. "Seth has always been a bit of an off person. He does a lot of crazy things, so showing up at someone's house in the middle of the night with a supposed emergency doesn't exactly… rank high on the list of the most shocking things he's ever done."

But still, something about Seth's arrival made me feel ill at ease. Paul was right – Seth was a strange but generally cheerful person, and he had done odd things before, but… I don't know. Maybe I was just overreacting and being paranoid. Or maybe I was just doing my best to stall on having to talk about what happened moments before Seth had banged on the front door.

I swallowed nervously, twisting my hands together as I headed back to the living room. Paul followed close behind, hands in his pockets, and said, "Are we really not going to talk about it?"

"I'd prefer it if we didn't," I mumbled, collapsing on the couch and burying my head in my hands. "I'm sorry, it was –"

To my surprise, he laughed, and I felt a hot wash of embarrassment go over me. "Are you seriously apologizing?"

In my frustration, I ended up blurting out, "I don't want that to be considered our first kiss."

And it was true. It was a kiss, yes, and it was one of the only ones I had ever had, and it was… _nice,_ of course, but something felt off about it. As if I shouldn't have kissed him quite yet because I hadn't exactly sorted out my feelings – like it wasn't fair to him to be leading him on when I wasn't sure how I felt.

He sat next to me, pulling my hands away from my face and forcing me to look at him. "It's okay, you know. You're my imprint. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Granted, I didn't exactly expect it to happen _now,_ but I'm not exactly complaining. After all, I'm a pretty good-looking guy, so you would have fallen for my charms eventually."

"That's not -" I groaned in frustration, rubbing my eyes in my annoyance. "You are so _frustrating._ "

"You love it."

I did. "We aren't going to count it as our first kiss," I repeated firmly, voice softening slightly when he laced our fingers together. I watched our hands wearily, simultaneously hating and loving the way his skin felt against mine. "As far as I'm concerned, we haven't had our first kiss yet."

A breath of air left his lips. "Okay, then. When, dare I ask, will we finally have our first kiss, if that wasn't it?"

I thought about it, trying to choose my words carefully in a way that would convey everything that I was feeling in a single statement. "It'll happen when it's real."

Paul frowned, studying me intently. "Is it not real yet?"

After a moment of silence, I shook my head. "No, not yet. But almost."

Yeah. Definitely almost.

oOo

 _*For an idea of what the music box song sounds like, type "pure imagination music box" into Google, and click on what should be the second link. It should be "Willy Wonka - Pure Imagination by AlessandroRT."_

 _Next Time: Combat training, breaking and entering, and girl's night._


	27. The Break-In at the Bedroom

Chapter 27:

" _We understand so much, but the sky behind those lights – mostly void, partially stars? That sky reminds us that we don't understand even more." – "Welcome to Night Vale," Episode 25: 'One Year Later'_

 _Washington D.C. Shooting Range, 11 Months Ago:_

 _"I legitimately think that I want to die right now."_

 _Clad in only a sports bra and a pair of tight running pants and with her fists wrapped up with bandages, Audrey Perdue was standing awkwardly in the middle of a large exercise room filled to the brim with metal equipment and training dummies. She wasn't quite sure what the room was used for on a daily basis – from the look of it, mostly a storage room for the gun range that was only a few yards away in the hot summer heat. But today, it had been cleared away and a space had been made so that the area could be used as a training room. At least, that was what Monique was calling it. Audrey was mentally referring to it as a torture chamber._

 _"Oh, stop being such a drama queen," Monique said exasperatedly from beside her, stretching her arms across her chest. "You're the one who asked for this, remember? And if you don't stretch with me, you're going to end up pulling a muscle and then you'll be practically useless, so hop to it."_

 _"Yeah," Audrey replied, though she followed Monique's advice and plopped herself on the hard mat under her feet, stretching her legs out in front of her and reaching down to touch her toes, "and remind me why I took off from work just to get my ass kicked by someone who's trained to do this sort of thing?"_

 _"Because you know that I'm the only one who could help you with this in a way that would actually be of use to you," she said seriously. "Look, we haven't even started yet, so you can still back out if you want to do so. If not, shut up and let's get started."_

 _Audrey thought about it. It would have been easy to just leave and save her body from the physical pain and aching muscles she would most likely get after the day was over, but… well, she had asked for this for a reason. It couldn't hurt, right? Every woman on the planet should have some knowledge on how to defend herself from potential dangers, and Audrey was no different._

" _Fine," she said. "I'm at your disposal, Oh Wise One. Teach me what you know."_

 _Monique stretched out her hands and pulled Audrey to her feet, the two women standing side by side in anticipation of what was to come. "Now to start off, a basic review: there are several places that you can go for that will harm or disarm your opponent, but we're going to narrow that down to a few that will be easier for you to hit – most notably, obviously the groin area, the knees, the kidneys, or anywhere near the throat, nose, and eyes. Knowing this, choose your spot and," she gestured to herself. "Try to attack me."_

 _Audrey made a face of disbelief. "You're serious. You want me to just… go after you?"_

 _Monique gave her a sly smile. "I think I can handle it. Now, go."_

 _Audrey didn't waste any time. She chose a spot near Monique's lower abdomen and dived forward, but before she could even realize what was happening, Monique had grabbed her hand, twisted her around, and Audrey was flat on her back with her stunned gaze fixed on the ceiling._

 _Monique stood over her with her hands on her hips. "I didn't say anything about going for the solar plexus – that'll be too hard for you to hit, no matter how effective it is if you end up landing a punch."_

 _A bit breathlessly, Audrey wheezed out, "I was aiming for your kidneys."_

" _You failed." She pulled Audrey to her feet for the second time, setting herself a few paces back. "Do you know what you did wrong?"_

" _Uh," Audrey dusted off her pants and sighed, pushing back a stray strand of hair from her face. "I'm assuming that my first mistake was picking a fight with someone who works for the Marshall Service."_

 _But Monique was in her element, which meant that she was all business and wasn't in the mood for messing around. "I baited you, and you struck exactly when I wanted you to strike. Also, your eyes kind of gave away where your fists were trying to go."_

 _"Ugh," Audrey groaned and fell back against the floor, staring up at her unamused friend. "Okay. So no looking at the spot i'm going to attack, make sure the attack is a surprise, and no going for the solar plexus."_

 _"If it's an option then by all means," she waved her hand in the air. "Go for it. But don't rely on it. There are a lot of places you could easily get to even though you're a little shorter than average."_

 _And as she spoke, Audrey saw her chance. Monique wanted surprise? She would get surprise. "Shorter than average, huh? Maybe it seems like I should rely on the element of surprise more than anything. Do you think that would work better?"_

 _Monique shrugged. "That depends on whether or not you find a chance to surprise -_ _"_

 _Before she could even finish her sentence, Audrey braced her hands on the floor and kicked her legs around, using all the strength she could muster to kick Monique's legs from under her. The taller woman squeaked in a completely uncharacteristic manner, caught almost completely by surprise, and landed on her back next to Audrey._

 _Audrey sat up, leaning over her friend. "How was that?"_

 _Monique shook her head. "You bitch." There was a pause and she pulled herself to her feet, hands on her hips as Audrey did the same. "Though I have to give you credit for that. I really wasn't expecting it."_

 _At Audrey's look of delight, Monique shook her head for the second time. "You know what? We'll get back to hand-to-hand combat later. Let's fast forward to why we really came here today." Her eyes twinkled. "I have a present for you."_

 _Audrey watched as she moved across the room to her duffel bag that was thrown near the door, searching intently for one thing in particular. When she returned, she carried two slightly heavy pieces of black metal that Audrey hoped weren't actually loaded. "Let's keep in mind that the shooting range is outside and not in here, so please tell me you at least took the bullets out. I don't want to have to deal with a lawsuit if we accidentally shot and destroyed expensive equipment, or if we did something equally ridiculous."_

" _Of course I took the bullets out," she scoffed. "I left the rounds in my bag. Now," she held out one of the weapons in her friend's direction, which Audrey hesitantly took, "one of your very own. I've been instructed to give you this since you've, you know, turned in the paperwork and everything. It's a Glock 43 – standard-issue firearm for most police departments, including our lovely friends who work for the FBI. And for me."_

 _Audrey's grimace deepened as Monique casually handled the pistol, lifting it up and pretending to aim it at a tiny spot on a training dummy on the far side of the room. "I'm starting to regret ever submitting an application for a permit for this stupid thing," she stated, looking down at the metal in her hands with distaste. "I'm not someone who knows how to do this, Mona. This is your area, not mine."_

" _Relax, will you?" she urged, eyeing you with frustration. "I'm a trained professional and trust me when I tell you, it isn't hard to learn."_

" _So just like, point and shoot," Audrey said, lifting up the gun and pretending to aim at nothing in particular. "Like 'Charlie's Angels.'"_

" _Kind of, yes," Monique replied amusedly, using a single finger to move Audrey's gun away from her. "There are four basic rules to remember when handling a firearm. First, I don't care if someone literally shows you that the gun is empty – always expect the gun to be loaded whenever its been out of your control." With practiced hands, Monique then showed Audrey how to check the safety on the weapon, as well as how to check for the cartridge of bullets._

 _When Monique was sure that Audrey had gotten the hang of what she was handling, she continued, "Second rule to remember – even if you know the gun is unloaded, never, ever point it at something you aren't prepared to destroy. This isn't some water gun you can get from a toy store at the mall. It has the potential to do some serious damage. Rule three is just as obvious – always be sure of your target, but be sure to also know what's behind it."_

 _Audrey nodded in understanding. "Because the bullets can go through the target and hit whatever is behind it."_

" _Exactly. And finally," Monique said, "Never put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot. You don't have this problem as much with these new modern firearms, but you don't want to take the chance that you're aiming and actually shoot someone. Or that you aren't aiming and accidentally shoot yourself in the foot."_

" _Lovely."_

" _That's basically it," she mused, tapping her finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Other than clean your weapon on occasion, make sure it isn't malfunctioning, etc. You know, the usual jazz."_

" _Okay," Audrey said slowly, eyeing the weapon and holding it with both hands like it was actually meant to be held. "I think I have it."_

" _Alright, excellent," Monique clapped her hands together eagerly, giving Audrey a mischievous smile. "Now that you've got the theory and basic gun safety understood, let's head out to the range and get to shooting, Tex."_

oOo

It was a little more than twenty-four hours after Christmas Day had passed before I realized that Paul had officially lost his mind.

When I took the time to think about it logically, I realized that I didn't really have anyone else to blame but myself. As always. Kissing Paul – and I still didn't quite believe that I had actually done so – was probably one of the worst things in the world that I could have done. It was more than just a simple kiss of thanks. It was admittance to Paul that he was growing on me in more ways than I cared to admit, and the action had done nothing but make him more determined to win me over. This, in turn, made him even more unbearable than he already was, and it all started when he broke into my house.

Maybe 'broke into' was a bit of an exaggeration, because he technically didn't _break_ anything in his… venture. Nothing besides my patience, anyway.

It was three in the morning when it happened, and I was doing what normal people usually do at three in the morning – sleeping. Not exactly the weirdest thing in the world, right? I was sleeping quite peacefully before Paul nearly gave me a heart attack, having been pulled from my pleasant dreams of crackling fireplaces and foot massages done by warm hands and into a cold reality where my supposed soul mate was an idiot.

It was the light creaking of the window being pushed open that woke me from my dreams, a sound that I didn't quite recognize immediately since my brain was still in a sleepy haze. My first thought – you know, the logical thought that people would have when they hear a mysterious noise like their window being shoved open in the middle of the night – was, " _Holy shit, someone is breaking into the house._ " Then, even worse, " _Oh, God, did he finally find us?_ "

My thoughts raced. " _Think, Audrey, think!_ " I knew that I had a weapon in the bedside table. If I hurried and rolled out of bed and to the floor, I could quickly reach into the drawer and grab it. Granted, the chances that I could reach it fast enough were slim and it wouldn't do much damage since it wasn't actually loaded – like I would actually leave a loaded gun anywhere in the house with a nosy six-year old wandering around – but the intruder didn't have to know that.

With my eyes cracked open into tiny slits, I could see the blurred shadow of a lithe form sliding casually through the window, and when the figure landed in the room and apparently attempted to get his bearings, I took my chance. I swiftly rolled to the side and grunted when I banged into the hard ground. A vaguely familiar voice cursed from the other side of the bed, but I didn't immediately recognize it. In a flash, I had shoved open the drawer and had the gun in my hands, pointing it in the direction of the intruder and forcibly ordering, "Don't move or I shoot!"

" _Katherine, what the fuck?_ "

But then… then I recognized the voice. I didn't move the gun away just in case my sleep-deprived body was hallucinating, but I took one of my hands away to flip on the lamp, a surge of combined relief and incredulity slipping through my veins as I let the gun fall to my side. "For _fuck's_ sake, Paul!" I snapped, rubbing the bridge of my nose and attempting to force my breathing to slow down to its normal pace. "I could have shot you!"

He was staring at me in his own state of disbelief, as if he wasn't the one that needed to give an explanation for breaking into someone's house and nearly scaring the shit out of them. "Why do you have a _gun?_ "

I forcibly shoved the weapon back into its spot in the bedside table drawer, slamming the drawer shut without regard to the noise I was making. "To protect myself from idiots like you who think they can just break into my house!" I hissed in frustration. "Speaking of which, do you care to explain why the fuck you're _breaking into my house_ at three in the god-damn morning?"

It was as if he didn't quite know what to say, too lost in the whole 'gun' thing to even remember what he had come here for. "Nice to know you can at least protect yourself if someone tried to break into your house," he said in what was a cross between exasperation and amazement. "Jesus, I can't believe you actually have a gun! What if you had hurt yourself or it accidentally went off?"

" _Me_?" I exclaimed. "If you break into someone's house, you better be prepared to get shot – you would have been the one in danger, not me, considering I actually know how to fire a weapon. Now I'll ask you again and if I don't get an answer, I may _actually_ shoot you – what the _hell_ are you _doing_ here?"

"Okay, now that I'm actually here, I realize that maybe sneaking in isn't really having the amazing effect that I thought it would," he admitted. "I had it all planned out because I was on patrol and had this awesome revelation and now I'm kind of realizing that this whole thing was probably a mistake and that now I should just –"

"Paul. Get to the fucking point."

He hesitated only a moment before blurting out, "Go out on a date with me."

I blinked, immediately believing that I hadn't quite heard him correctly – that there had to have been some sort of fumbling mumbles as his words went through my ears and to my brain. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

He walked around the room and placed his hands on my shoulders, staring at me in a way that was so intense that it made a shiver go up the base of my spine. "Go on a date with me this weekend. Just the two of us."

I gaped at him in disbelief. "A date? Paul, please tell me that you didn't go so far as to break into my bedroom at three in the morning, nearly making me _shoot_ you with an actual _gun_ , just so that you could ask me on something as childish as a date."

"Well when you put it that way, it sounds stupid," he mumbled.

"Because it _is_ stupid!" I snapped, resisting the urge to shout and shoving his hands off of my shoulders in my annoyance. "You are the most _infuriating –_ ugh! As if this couldn't have waited until tomorrow morning, during normal daylight hours!"

But he was just staring at me expectantly, and I realized that I hadn't technically given him an answer to his question.

"If I say yes, will you leave so that I can go back to sleep?" I asked bluntly.

He shrugged. "Sure."

"Fine," I crossed my arms over my chest and rolled my eyes at him, choosing – for once in my life – not to think about the consequences. "Yes, I'll go out on a date with you – as childish as it is considering we're both adults."

He looked much too proud of himself for getting me to agree, even if I didn't exactly agree with his methods, and the smug look on his face was absolutely infuriating. It irritated me to no end, and I think he knew it, too. When he didn't make any move to leave, instead opening his mouth to say something that was probably equally as aggravating, I shoved my hands forward and pressed them against his bare chest, pushing him back toward the window with as much strength as I could muster. He let me move him backward, obviously amused by my attempts. "A little eager to be rid of me, considering you just agreed to go on a date with me."

"Oh, stop being a jerk. You need to leave," I stated seriously, watchful gaze focused on Paul as he climbed back out the window in the same way he had entered. "Right now, before I change my mind about shooting you or I end up calling the cops because some psychopath broke into the house."

He leaned against the frame of the house and peered at me through the open pane, cocking his head to the side in amusement. "You like me too much to have me arrested," he said. "Besides, you agreed, so I must be doing something right."

"Don't push your luck," I snorted. And with what little spite I could find within me in my exhaustion, I reached out and pointedly slammed the window shut before he could open his mouth again, pulling the curtains closed and listening to his muffled chuckle until it finally faded away into the night.

oOo

"Alright, ladies!" Emily announced, a bottle of wine in each of her hands as she joined Kim and Leah at her kitchen table. I followed close behind with four wine glasses in my hands, staring at her in amusement. "The boys are gone for the rest of the afternoon, all children are with their proper babysitters for the evening, and I'm no longer pregnant so I can enjoy several glasses of wine without remorse." She all but slammed the wine on the table, hands going to rest on her hips, "Time for an easygoing night without the possessiveness of idiot werewolves breathing down the backs of our necks."

"Amen," Kim and I chimed in together as I passed out the glasses, and the two of us exchanged similarly knowing looks while Leah let out a snort.

"Well, obviously besides you, Leah," Emily added. "You know what I meant."

"Oh, please," Leah scowled, stretching out her long legs under the table. "It's not like I couldn't _not_ be here, considering that Sam gave me the Alpha order to stay. Didn't want all of you to be alone in the house without any protection." There was a heavy pause as she reached out to pull the cork out of the bottle of red wine with bare hands, pouring a generous amount into her glass before she added, "Though from what I've been hearing through the grapevine, you don't really need my protection now that Wonder Woman is here."

I swiped the bottle out of her hands when there was a round of smirks and giggles around the table, pouring myself a glass of the wine and taking a hearty sip before I spoke. "Oh, shut up, Leah. No one asked you."

I was surprised at how fast the news had gotten around, since it had only been a few days since Paul broke into my house. But then I realized that maybe it wasn't so surprising, after all, considering the fact that the guys had a mental link that let them hear everything that the others were thinking. And if Paul was thinking about it, it was only a matter of time before everyone else found out about it, too. So much for having a bit of privacy.

"Okay," Kim clapped her hands against the tabletop and eagerly leaned forward, her gaze expectant. Beside her, Emily handed over the second bottle of wine to Leah to open before she poured both herself and Kim a glass of what appeared to be White Zinfandel. "I have been waiting _forever_ to hear this story. Jared only told me what he heard from Paul, which wasn't much."

"Long story short," I deadpanned, waving around my glass and making the wine slosh around against the rim, "Paul was a complete imbecile who almost got himself shot because he doesn't know basic common sense. I mean, come on! He breaks into my house in the middle of the night and everyone looks at me like _I'm_ the crazy one for defending myself!"

Leah topped off my already full glass, looking quite proud for no reason in particular, "You're an inspiration to us all, my dear friend. So, tell me," she leaned forward conspiratorially, in a similar way to what Kim had done only moments before, "is it legal? Are you an illegal arms dealer on the sly? And if so, can I get one?"

"I'm not an illegal arms dealer," I stated wryly, giving her a pointed frown. "I have a permit. I got it to protect myself when I was –" I cleared my throat, absently taking another, smaller sip of the wine. "When I lived back in New York. Not exactly the safest city in the world, especially for a single mother, so I had to protect myself however I could." Then I gave her a strange look, "And what the hell would you need a gun for? You literally turn into a nearly invincible werewolf on a daily basis."

"Because it's awesome!" she pointedly placed her glass back on the table, all but slamming her hands against the wood. "You're fucking like GI Jane! Literally the best thing I've ever heard – hell, what I wouldn't have given to be a fly on the wall for that encounter."

"I agree," Kim said strongly, "it's about time we have more badass, weapon-carrying pack girls running around the rez. It's good that you know how to defend yourself, and it kind of gives Paul a hint to back off, you know? Wish I could do that with Jared. Wave a gun around, scare the shit out of him a bit. Might be nice."

"Ugh, you're preaching to the choir, sister," Emily groaned, clacking her glass with Kim's. "Ever since I had Takoda, Sam has been an absolute _nightmare._ I thought that the protectiveness would fade a bit now that I'm not pregnant anymore, but if anything, he's gotten worse! Always hovering, always asking me how I'm feeling." She sighed. "I'm surprised he even agreed to stay away for a few hours so we could have our little party."

"I'm sure he means well," I told her, just happy that the conversation had turned away from my own life.

"Well, I'm sure it helps that while they're patrolling and such that they keep passing by the house to check up on us," Kim pointed out. "That's probably the only reason he left. Plus, we have our own werewolf bodyguard with us."

Before Leah could open her mouth and give a snappy retort, I curiously questioned, "Is that just because of the imprints? Or do they do that with the regular couples in the pack, too?"

Emily and Kim exchanged a ill-at-ease glance, and I realized that I may have hit a nerve that I previously hadn't even known existed. "If there _were_ any regular couples in the pack, I'm sure they would do it with them, too," Emily stated slowly, "but it's mostly just because of the imprints. A lot of them don't see the point if they have relationships with people who aren't their imprints because… well, the damage when they _do_ imprint is kind of –"

"It sucks," said Leah bluntly, waving her hand in the air. "Like the heart-wrenching, soul crushing kind of shit that drives you insane in the middle of the night. Which is why they don't like emotional attachments and why people like Paul spent more of their time having one night stands. Easier to cut ties that way, no chance of anybody being broken-hearted."

Emily frowned at Leah but didn't bother to correct her. "Paul isn't really a good example of that healthy relationships. Not until he met you, Katherine. But… did he ever tell you about Jacob and Bella?"

" _Ugh!_ " Leah took another huge gulp of her wine. "It's bad enough that I can't even get enough of a buzz from the wine anymore, but I think I would rather fuck a duck than listen to the wondrous tale of Bella fucking Swan again."

Emily's eyes went wide. "Leah! You shouldn't talk about her like that; it's very disrespectful."

But I nearly choked on my wine while Kim let out a huge laugh. "Fuck a duck?"

Leah shrugged at me and let out a little smirk, but she spoke directly to Emily. "Don't act like you don't think it, too. Everyone does. She practically destroyed Jacob and now everyone walks around her like eggshells just because she got her very own happy ending – meanwhile the rest of us are left picking up the pieces she left behind with all the chaos she caused."

"It's not like that anymore," Emily interjected sternly, giving Leah a pointed glance. "Now that Jacob's imprinted –"

"Still doesn't change the fact that it's weird."

"All things considered, it _was_ kind of strange, Emily," Kim conceded hesitantly before Emily could respond. "I mean, when Jacob first imprinted, we were all kind of… confused. It was – I don't know. Like they didn't really fit together."

"I don't think I've met Jacob's imprint," I said thoughtfully, running my fingers over the edge of the glass.

"It's a bit of a complicated story," said Emily. "Long story short, there was a vampire that was hunting Bella Swan and an army was created to kill her. She was with Edward at the time – a vampire, someone who's considered a son of the one who fixed your wrist at the hospital – Carlisle. Jacob still had feelings for Bella because Edward had broken up with her and Jacob had helped to heal her, and she had kind of led him on before she got back with Edward. The guys just decided to help because if one of the pack is hurting –"

"Then the rest is going to hurt, too," I finished. "Yeah, I know that much."

"Not that we wouldn't have helped anyway," Leah added. "There were way too many of them for the Cullen's to handle on their own. They would have eventually been defeated and then the bloodsuckers would have moved onto our land. We couldn't let that happen, so we had to fight."

I was very tempted to ask about the vampire army because it wasn't exactly a story that you heard about in everyday conversation, but I figured that for the sake of everyone, I would leave my questions for another time. Or I would just ask Paul about it later, if the subject was ever brought up. "Well obviously everyone made it out alive, but where does Jacob's imprint fit into this?"

The tension in the air suddenly became tense and uncomfortable. Kim was the one who spoke. "I didn't find out about this until later because I wasn't with Jared at the time, but from what I've heard, Jacob ended up getting hurt pretty badly. Awfully. It wasn't anyone's fault," she insisted quickly, her eyes flickering swiftly to Leah. "But it was pretty bad. He was out of commission for a while, even with their advanced healing. Then a few weeks after that, Bella graduated from high school and sent out her wedding invitations."

"And she was getting married to the vampire?" I clarified.

"Yeah. And After that…" Kim cleared her throat. "Jacob took off for a while to be on his own – lived in the forests around the Canadian border, I think. Didn't really talk to anyone, stayed away from civilization. He was heartbroken. But then he came back for the wedding and there was this whole mess about Bella getting pregnant over their honeymoon with some type of," she grimaced, "weird hybrid, half-vampire baby." She waved a hand in the air. "That baby was Jacob's imprint."

" _What?_ "

"Now it's not the first time we've had one of the guys imprint on a child," Emily rushed to say, "So we all know that it wasn't anything sexual. But it – we all thought – I have no idea. It was just odd because she was still part vampire, and the pack… well, it's ingrained into their instincts - it's in their nature to hate the Cold Ones."

"Sorry to break away from this riveting conversation, but I have a question," interjected Leah. "This was something that has been bugging me for ages that I never understood about them: How on earth could they have had sex in the first place?"

"Oh, Jesus, Leah."

"Sweetie," I said, trying not to smirk, "did anyone ever give you 'The Talk?'"

"Oh, fuck you," she scowled, slamming her glass on the table. "That isn't what I meant. Bear with me for a second here, okay? He's a vampire, right? The only blood that they have going through their systems is in what they drink, and it isn't like they drink _often._ You need proper blood flow to, you know, 'get it up,' so how the hell does that even _work_?"

I snorted.

"Can you imagine how uncomfortable that has to be?" Kim shuddered. "I mean, the guys are naturally warm and the Cold Ones are the opposite, so do you think it would be like getting frostbite in your –"

"Okay, that's enough!" Emily interjected quickly while Leah and I practically howled with laughter. "But I get what you mean, _despite_ the crudeness. I don't know what I would do if I had to sleep next to an icy block of marble every night."

"Yeah," Kim sighed dreamily, resting her head in her hands as her thoughts went to some memory of Jared. "It's insane, you know? The whole imprint thing. When I first found out about it, I wasn't really comfortable with the whole thing, but now… I guess I just understand it a little better. I can't imagine what my life would be like if I didn't have Jared now. I know it makes me sound like the pathetic and clingy girlfriend, but it's true. I love him more than anything in the world."

I didn't bother to point out my own qualms with imprinting, since I'm sure the girls had heard them all before and I wasn't exactly in the mood to start another argument, but it turned out that I didn't have to say anything.

"Imprinting is different for everyone," Emily commented, reaching out to place her hand on top of my own as if she could tell what I was thinking. "We all have different personalities so the relationships that we have with the guys are going to be different. Granted, I've never actually seen anything quite like what you have with Paul, Katherine, but still. Doesn't change the fact that you two are perfect for each other."

"Perfect isn't exactly a word I would use for my relationship with Paul," I said, pushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "More like complicated, but I guess we're improving as much as our personalities are letting us. I know you guys know about the whole breaking into my house to ask me on a date and the kiss thing but –"

All three women froze and turned to me in surprise. "Wait, wait, go back a second," Emily urged, narrowing her eyes in suspicion, "what 'kiss' thing?"

Was it possibly that they didn't actually know? Could Paul have kept something to himself for once? "You didn't hear?"

"No!"

"What happened?"

I sighed and after a moment of silent debate, I relayed to them the story of what happened on the evening of December 25th, from the exchanging of presents to my excuse not to count my kiss with Paul as a real one. When I had finished my little tale and had practically sunken down into my seat in embarrassment, Kim and Emily sighed in happiness. "Oh, that's so sweet," Emily stated. "Positively romantic."

"You guys are hopeless," said Leah.

"Let me ask you something, Katherine," said Kim. "You guys are obviously not a couple yet, but you can't honestly tell us that you haven't imagined what it would be like – you know, having a relationship with him or even sex. You had to have thought about what it would be like at least once, right?"

"I can honestly say that I haven't thought about sex. That's off the table for the immediate future and Paul knows it. Besides, anything I want to know I can just ask tons of women on the reservation and they would probably tell me whatever it is that I needed to know," I replied, only a tiny bit bitter. "As for the relationship thing… I mean, I've thought about it, of course, but… I don't know. Maybe I'll decide to be in a relationship with him when his dick is bigger than the size of his ego."

Leah laughed loudly and Kim grinned. "Oh, this was great," Leah sighed, leaning back in her chair. "I think I'm actually glad that I came tonight since we get _this_ kind of girly chat."

Emily, however, was looking at me in concern. She seemed to understand that I was only partially joking, and that I wasn't just pulling Paul along for the hell of it. She understood that I had legitimate concerns that couldn't be shoved aside so easily. "It's okay to have doubts – we all have them, even now. It doesn't mean any less of you; it means that you're trying to make an informed decision and that you're trying not to move forward if you aren't ready for it, no matter how strong the imprint is. It's completely natural to have these feelings and just as natural to have doubts –"

"Unlike the Cold Ones, who aren't natural in any sense of the word," Leah interjected smartly, tapping the side of her nose and exchanging a glance with Emily.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look, the Cullen's have helped us out over the years and that's cool," she explained, "but it doesn't change the fact that they're… it may seem harsh, but the only word I can use is abominations. They're unnatural."

"So are you," I pointed out. "You burst into a fluffy beast whenever you get angry, so how is it so different?"

I had never seen Leah so serious before, and I was suddenly at a loss. The people around me had spent their entire lives growing up on these stories, only to be thrust into something that was like a fairytale – or a horror novel, depending on your point of view. Was it strange for them to have to explain such things to an outsider – someone who didn't grow up on the same prejudices?

"Because it's different for us," she said strongly, leaving no room for argument. "We eat real food, we sleep at night, we breathe and our hearts beat and warm blood constantly flows through our veins. We bleed, our skin is soft and malleable, and we age. And contrary to what you might think," she added, "we aren't immortal. Sooner or later, each and every person in the pack is going to stop phasing, grow old, and eventually die like everyone else. That's natural – we're human. But the Cold Ones… they don't have anything human left in them."

I nodded, realizing that even though I hadn't exactly grown up with these legends that I could still understand. I didn't know the Cullen's and the Cullen's certainly didn't know me. The only one that I had ever even met had been Carlisle and he had been nothing but nice, but even then, hadn't I sensed something different about him? Hadn't I instinctively realized that there was something strange and otherworldly, as if he wasn't entirely… natural? I had, and maybe that was just a part of being an imprint or maybe it was some animal instinct deep within my subconscious that told me that he was a threat.

Even so, I found that I couldn't disagree with Leah's words. Even if some of her personal bias was threading through her arguments, the majority of her statements were true, and all four of us knew it. "That's life," I eventually stated when the playful atmosphere had faded into something tense and almost sad. "Life for us is short-lived, and some things in this life that we have are only good and wonderful because they're fleeting, like… like freshly cut tulips or smoke from a bonfire. They're beautiful because we know that they'll eventually fade. If we were meant to love forever or live forever, then we'd all be –"

"Vampires."

oOo

 _Next Time:_ _a car crash, emotional talks, the date, and the beginning of the end._


	28. A Date Near the Fireplace

Chapter 28:

 _"Whisper a dangerous secret to someone you care about. Now they have the power to destroy you, but they won't. This is what love is." - Cecil Baldwin, "Welcome to Nightvale"_

Daniel Callaghan was just finishing his second cup of coffee in his office when the television hanging on the far side of the wall alerted him to the tragedy that had happened in New York earlier that morning.

It wasn't considered national news, nor was it considered very important, so the only recognition of the 'car accident' that killed Monique Hathaway was a tiny blip scrolling across the bottom of the screen while the news reporters chatted on about one disaster or another. Hell, Daniel was sure that Monique wouldn't have even gotten the tiny bit of airtime that she did if she hadn't been a government official, and even then it was a stretch. Car accidents were common, as tragic as they were, but they happened all the time. Not exciting enough to be reported to the public when there were more interesting things to be discussed.

But Daniel took immediate interest in it, flopping wearily back in his chair when he saw the headline.

 _So,_ he thought. _It was time, then._

He knew that something had been off the second that Monique had walked out of his office that cold day when she had given him those files, talking as if… as if it would be the last time he would ever see her. Which it was. Monique Hathaway died with the secrets she held of Audrey Perdue, leaving behind nothing more than a simple name he had committed to memory and a legacy of relatively decent police work.

He had poured over the documents looking for some mention of the woman named Katherine Montgomery that supposedly lived in some out-of-the-way place called La Push, Washington, but had effectively emerged from his search mostly empty-handed. There were only two mentions in governmental databases about someone named Katherine Montgomery who lived anywhere near the area: the first was an eighty-year old woman who owned a small knitting shop somewhere in Olympia, and the second was a young Engineering student currently enrolled in Seattle University.

But then he had expanded his search and right when he was about to give up… he found it. It was such a tiny blip on the radar that he had almost missed it, but it was there all the same and he spent ages staring critically at the little stack of information that was nothing more than a photocopied image of a hospital form. _Katherine Montgomery,_ read the form. _Female. Age: 23_. _Purpose of visit – broken wrist, with scrapes on hands and knees. Prior surgeries/medical procedures – Caesarian section during childbirth. Attending physician – Dr. Carlisle Cullen._

That was basically it. There wasn't even a phone number listed or any other descriptive factors that could confirm his suspicions. Normally, Daniel wouldn't have thought anything of the information… if the woman's listed home address had been somewhere other than La Push, Washington.

Then Daniel was stuck – if it truly was Audrey, should he go to her just to confirm his own suspicions? Monique told him about this for a reason, so did she _want_ him to go to Audrey? Was he the only one who knew of her existence now that Monique was dead? That had to be the reason she had spilled the secret that she was forced by law and basic morality code to protect. The Marshall Service didn't exactly keep files on 'who was who' when they put someone in Witness Protection, so if Monique thought that her days were numbered, did she make it so that there would still be someone that knew the secret of Katherine Montgomery? And if so, did that mean it was now his responsibility to protect her in case someone _else_ knew her location?

It was a sea of problematic choices that he simply wasn't sure how to actually deal with, and Daniel decided to put the matter aside for a while until he figured out what to do.

Now… now he was forced to make a decision, because if Monique's death wasn't just a car accident like he expected it was and someone else happened to find the information that he did, then Audrey's safety was compromised and she would have absolutely no idea. If she had been staying out of the public eye like she was supposed to be, she couldn't possibly know that her contact within the government had been killed, therefore putting her whole family at risk if her location was compromised.

He sighed and after a brief moment of debate, he called out to his secretary sitting just outside the door. "Annette! Could you do me a quick favor?"

The aging woman poked her head inside the door expectantly, sensible shoes shuffling on the carpeted floors. "Yes, sir?"

"Cancel my meetings for the next week and a half," he said immediately, chugging down the rest of his now-cold coffee and pushing back from his seat to gather up his belongings. "Send the district attorney my apologies, but I'll have to reschedule my dinner with him and his wife on Saturday. Make it in two weeks - or three, if that works better for him."

Annette gave him a strange look. "Any particular reason why you need to reschedule?"

"Something came up," he stated vaguely, flipping through a stack of papers before shoving them in his briefcase. "And do me another favor, would you? Immediately, if you can, preferably before you cancel the meetings. Call Delta Airlines – see what you can find for flights to Seattle-Tacoma International. The earliest flight you can get; first class, coach... doesn't matter. Just find a flight."

"Uh, right away, then," she said in confusion, her thin, graying eyebrows rising impossibly high. "If you don't mind the fact that I'm asking, what's in Seattle?"

"Important business that just came up," he answered as he rushed past her, shutting and locking his office door behind him. "I need to attend to it immediately, so I'll be out of the office for the rest of the week."

"Wait!" she called out to his retreating back. "Where are you going _now_?"

"Home to pack my bags!" he quickly called back to her. Then, much quieter, he muttered, "It's way past time for me to go visit an old friend."

oOo

"Leah was right – you really don't have much in the way of clothing, do you?"

From where I was positioned on the edge of my bed with a warm bundle resting contentedly in my arms, I watched as Emily dug through my closet like Leah had done so many weeks ago. It was strange to see her like this, critically studying pieces of clothing and frowning when she saw something that she wasn't satisfied with, and I was struck with the sudden reminder of how similar the she was to Leah. They were cousins, of course, a fact I already knew, but it was sometimes easy to forget with how different they usually were. Now, seeing Emily in this environment, I caught a glimpse of why they might have been so close when they were teenagers – a closeness that Leah would fight hard to deny.

"You and Leah are way too nosy for your own good," I playfully scolded her, smiling down delightedly at the baby in my arms. "And much too involved in my romantic life for some reason that I simply can't fathom, because it seriously isn't as interesting as you guys make it seem. Isn't that right, Takoda?"

Takoda giggled as I cooed at him, reaching up his chubby arms to try and grab onto a piece of my hair. He incessantly babbled a bunch of gibberish, laughing again when I quickly planted a series of kisses across his cheek.

"Interesting?" said Emily, tossing me a look over her shoulder. "When you two aren't fighting with each other, we all think it's hilarious. You and Paul are better than an episode of _The Young and the Restless._ We never know when one of you is going to get furious at the other and cause a bunch of drama. Not much else for us to do around here anyway, so Kim and I have been keeping a tally. You're in the lead, but Paul is a close second."

"Glad to know my life is a source of entertainment for you," I bitterly replied. "If history truly does repeat itself then you should get ready to have a few laughs, because our track record isn't exactly great. Tonight is probably going to turn out to be a complete and utter disaster."

Emily turned, a pair of shoes dangling from her fingers that she waved around to emphasize her words. "Oh, don't say that. If you keep dreading it then of course it's not going to turn out well. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, you know? Think good thoughts and the rest will follow in time."

"I'm glad that someone is pretty confident in us, because I know I'm not," I said. "I'm still questioning whether or not this is a good idea. Paul is... this worries me. I can think of a thousand ways for this to go wrong and I'm making myself more and more paranoid every second."

"It _is_ a good idea." When I gave her a dubious look, she sighed, tossing the shoes to the floor and taking a seat beside me. "What is it that you're actually worried about? Is it just nerves? I know that when I had my first date with Sam, I was practically a _mess._ " She waved her hand to emphasize her point. "Granted, there was that whole Leah-Sam anvil hanging over my head at the time, so that didn't exactly help."

"I don't know, I mean…" I looked down at Takoda, gently fixing the edge of the blanket in which he was wrapped. "I guess this is technically the first date I've ever been on - besides the whole 'not date' thing - and I don't know what the protocol is. What do you do on dates with your supposed werewolf soul mate? What do you do on _dates_ at all? It's just a foreign concept to me, you know? There was always something more important to do, so I never put dating as one of my high priorities."

"Not exactly rocket science, Katherine," she said wryly, nudging my shoulder with her own. "As cheesy and cliché as it sounds, you really just have to be yourself." After a slight pause, she added, "He's not expecting anything more than you can give him. He's honestly just happy that you agreed to go out with him at all – whether it was in a sleepy haze after he broke into your house or not – and really wants nothing more than to spend some time with you."

"Still doesn't change the fact that I don't know what I'm going to do." I gently reached out and placed a squirming Takoda back in his mother's arms, unable to sit still any longer. I stood and paced the floor, coming to a stop near the windowsill. "Sometimes I still have my doubts about this whole imprint thing. Like it really was a mistake and he was supposed to imprint on someone else. Someone that could have made his life easier."

"He wasn't. That's not how imprinting is supposed to work."

"Yeah," I said, "so I've been told. I want it to be real, though. I didn't at first, but now…" I looked away. "I guess things are different now. The way that I look at it… well, I realize that I could do a lot worse than Paul. Could do a lot _better_ , but I could also do a lot worse. A _lot_ worse."

When I looked back at Emily, she was smiling gently. "It's not a bad thing to have feelings for him. It's supposed to happen, and I promise you that he feels the same way. He always will. It's hard to believe, I know," she said. "Trust me, we all had our qualms about it, but once we gave in, it's the most beautiful thing. I have the most wonderful family in the world, and I wouldn't have had them if Sam hadn't imprinted."

"I don't have feelings for him," I automatically denied, choosing not to look at her when I spoke. "I feel something for him, but not..." I sighed. "I don't know, Emily. It's like my heart is telling me one thing but my head says the opposite, so it's difficult to tell you exactly how I feel. There's _something,_ but... I don't know what it is. I've never felt it before."

"When you do figure it out," Emily replied kindly, "he'll be waiting, and he'll be happy with whatever you decide. If you feel that kissing him didn't mean anything and all of this is simply an attempt at trying to sort out how you feel, then he'll be okay with that. If you realize that it's more and that you _want_ more like I honestly think you do, then... well, get ready for the ride of your life."

I choked out a laugh, pushing back my hair from my face. "Ride of my life, huh?"

"Sweetie, you have no idea."

oOo

"Okay, your choices are… me, Jared, and Sam."

I showed up at Paul's house a few minutes after seven o'clock, having been given the relieving notice that we wouldn't actually be going out for our 'date.' That was completely fine with me. I could dress comfortably for a night in a warm place without having to worry about spilled wine, broken wrists, or getting soaked by the rain, so I was pretty much prepared to call the night a 'win' before it had even started., even if I had basically no idea what he had actually planned for us.

Emily had been vague about the events of the night – if she had known anything about it at all – and Paul kept his plans to himself. Instinctively, I knew that it wouldn't be anything too complicated - yet another fact for which I would be eternally grateful. It would be a pleasant change of pace for us to have a peaceful night without any drama, but I wasn't going to jinx myself by keeping my hopes up. I had a low bar running from the moment I stepped out of my truck, hoping that this night wouldn't turn out like the others.

And it turned out… to be the best date I ever had.

Granted, it was basically the _only_ date I had ever been on, so I didn't exactly have anything to compare it to. However, with knowledge of the tales of disaster dates that I had heard from colleagues and my own experiences with 'going out with Paul,' I considered myself lucky to have what I did, which was a guy whose idea was a night in front of the fireplace.

The night was easygoing – some may have gone so far as to call it _boring,_ but I enjoyed myself and honestly, I wasn't sure that my brain would have been able to take more than I had been given. He had pushed back the furniture in his living room and laid out a huge pile of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the fire – a makeshift picnic area where we settled down with a light dinner that consisted of pasta (made from Emily, Paul had said), salad (though mostly for me – Paul had turned up his nose at it and helped himself to a second helping of pasta instead) mixed pieces of sliced fruit, and the bottle of red wine from our 'not-date' that I had been saving for a special occasion.

Filled with delicious food and a warm tingling in my belly from the wine, I had simply fallen backwards on the blankets with a contented sigh, stretching out my toes toward the fire. Paul sat beside me and leaned back on his arms, equally full and equally content.

We talked about nothing in particular for a while, random questions without any heaviness or stress being thrown back and forth between us until we somehow got onto our own, rather strange version of 'Fuck, Marry, Kill.' It was revealing a lot about both of us and there were quite a few amused laughs, until Paul said three names that drastically changed the tone of our entire conversation.

"You, Jared, and Sam…" I repeated lazily, fingers twirling in a slightly torn piece of the blanket under my back as I peered up at Paul critically. "Kill Jared, definitely, because he can be an annoying little shit. And – hm, I guess I'd have to fuck Sam –"

Paul had a lot of nerve to look insulted, considering that he had been the one to ask the question. "Why not me?"

"Because Sam is already married," I explained, giving him a strange look as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, I don't think I would have the same level of patience that Emily has to be able to deal with Sam for the rest of my life, and to be completely honest with you, I don't think Sam would be able to deal with me. We'd probably kill each other before the end of the second night, so maybe we could hate-fuck and be done with it."

"Oh, God," he covered his face with his hands, quickly giving his head a shake in my direction, "please don't give me that mental image. It's scarring enough to think of you and Sam doing anything remotely sexual together, let alone hate-fucking."

"Why?" I smiled innocently up at him, reaching up to pry his hands from his face so I could see his expression. "Are you jealous?"

"Fuck yeah, I am," he said assuredly, without any hint of shame. "The thought of you with anyone else drives me nuts. But then again," he added thoughtfully, a lazy smirk appearing on his face, "I'm much more good-looking than Sam is, so it isn't like I actually have anything to worry about."

"Also more humble than Sam, apparently," I stated wryly. "It's true, though. You don't have to be jealous of him. You don't have to be jealous of anyone, really. Just because I have a bunch of large people in my social circle doesn't necessarily mean that my social circle is _large_."

He smiled and my heart skipped a beat, curiosity suddenly dawning in his gaze. "There really wasn't anyone for you back in New York? No one at all that… not that I want there to be anyone," he rushed to add, "but… it just seems unlikely, you know? Despite the whole wall of steel you have around you, you're actually a really awesome person."

"Gee, Paul, thanks," I said sarcastically, flopping onto my stomach and resting my head on my hand as I studied his profile. "What a wonderful compliment. And to answer your question, there truly wasn't anyone." I frowned. "Actually, I think there was only one guy that I interacted with on a daily basis that I could actually stand to be around for long periods of time. Good with the boys, smart, successful, didn't back down when I picked a fight with him…" I shook my head. "But I never even considered being romantic with him. Never would have worked between us so I didn't see a point in even thinking about it."

"Why not?"

I smirked. "Considering the fact that he was my boss, some people might have considered it the tiniest bit unprofessional." Paul nodded knowingly, and I continued, "To be honest with you, he probably thought I hated him, but I thought of him as something very close to a friend. I respected him, at the very least. More than I respected others, and it wasn't just because he was my boss and signed my paychecks."

Paul looked thoughtful, turning onto his side to face me. "You talk about him like he's dead."

"I left without saying goodbye, so it sort of seems like he is sometimes." Then I gave him a wry look with a morbid inside joke that I knew Paul simply wouldn't understand. "More like I'm the dead one, really."

He grimaced. "I'm kind of glad that you aren't."

I nudged his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm kind of happy about that, too." Then my gaze softened to something akin to loss, and I confessed, "I miss him. All of my friends, as few and sparse as they may have been."

"They're only a phone call away if you really wanted to speak with them," he pointed out. "You could even call them right now, if you wanted."

"I doubt they'd take too kindly to that since it's about… oh, three in the morning there," I smiled sadly, absently picking at one of my nails. "Besides, I doubt that they would want to hear from me anyway. It's been so long and I left so suddenly..."

He shrugged. "You never know."

No, I definitely knew. "When we left New York," I began, biting my lip, "we – well technically _I_ – left knowing that I probably would never see them again. I thought that I was okay with that, like it had only been temporary anyway and that I would have eventually found myself moving away anyway. Things are so different now. I miss it there. I wish I could go back and..." I sighed, wistfully closing my eyes. "Spend some time there. Go and see my favorite places and visit some old friends."

"Just because you moved doesn't mean that they stopped existing, and it doesn't mean that they stopped being your friends," he argued, reaching out to push a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His hand lingered a moment too long, the tips of his fingers brushing lightly over my cheek. "Do you think you'll ever move back?"

My eyes flickered open and I turned to him, studying him intently and reaching out to grab his hand before he fully pulled away. We both looked down at our conjoined hands and he sighed, his expression somewhat nervous. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. "No," I said after a moment. "Moving back there? No, probably not. I couldn't even if I wanted to do so."

"Why not?"

"Trying to get me to leave, Lahote?" I questioned slyly, knowing that I was avoiding the question and not really caring. "And here I thought we were actually making progress, but you're trying to get me to move out of the state."

"Nah," he shook his head, tugging me forward by the hand until I was curled up against his chest. When he turned onto his back, I let my head rest near the crook of his neck, murmuring contentedly at his warmth. "If you wanted to go I obviously wouldn't be able to stop you, but I would really love it if you stayed."

"Like I could actually leave now," I said. "After everything." Then, because curiosity eventually overwhelmed me, I asked, "Hypothetical situation: let's say that tomorrow morning I wake up and decide that I want to leave La Push forever and go back to New York. What would you do?"

Paul let out a heavy breath of air and shrugged. "I honestly don't know what I would do." His arm instinctively tightened around me. "The thought of you leaving is painful. I hate the thought that I could wake up tomorrow and you could just be... gone."

I was silent, playing with the collar of his shirt while I struggled to organize my thoughts. "You don't have to worry," I eventually said. "I can't go back there. It was one of those things where I swept off a clean slate and I just can't go back now. The only reason I would ever leave is if -" I cut myself off, pausing. "It's just hard to think about them."

"You're a glutton for punishment."

I chuckled. "I'm not a masochist," I replied amusedly. "At least, I don't think I am. I don't thrive off of pain, but… maybe I put myself in a lot of situations that could have easily been avoided. Shoving people away because I…" My face fell. "It's easier to protect them that way. It's easier to protect the people that I care about if I push them away, because they don't have to deal with… me."

His eyes were stern and I struggled to avoid his gaze. "Katherine."

"I'm okay, I promise. They're better off without me anyway, and I… sometimes I wish I could go back and tell my boss that I didn't completely hate his guts, and sometimes I wish that I could tell my old best friends how grateful I am for everything that they've done for me…" I looked up to see Paul was still watching me intently, and I felt my cheeks heat. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to get so serious, but –"

"You miss your friends," he said softly. His hand ran up my spine in a comforting way. There was nothing remotely sexual or forward about the motion but it still made a chill run up my spine. "That isn't a crime, Katherine. But I'm still kind of confused – you keep acting like you were forced out of your home and won't ever be able to return. Did something happen when you left?" His brow furrowed. "For that matter, I don't think you ever actually told me _why_ you really left."

This was it – the moment of truth. If I opened my mouth and said what I truly wanted to say, there would be no turning back. There wouldn't be any way to erase time or change my actions; no way to take back my words if I suddenly found myself filled with regrets. This would be the end. Paul would probably be furious that I kept the secret for so long, but eventually he would get over it and… there would no longer be any secrets between us, which was something that I had wanted for so long.

I had told Isaac that the secret had to stay between us, but sitting there in front of Paul with my heart on my sleeve, I could feel my resolve slowly beginning to slip. Maybe Isaac had been right. I was _supposed_ to lean on Paul; I was supposed to be able to confide in him and trust him. I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with him, so could I really do so without ever telling him the truth?

The answer was simple – no. I couldn't. I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I wouldn't be able to look him in the eye everyday, knowing that I had a horrible secret swinging over my head at every moment.

And I suddenly had a beautiful vision of a bright future where we could be happy. A family. _So_ fucking happy together. Late nights camped out in the living room of a nice house in front of the fire, family game nights with the boys, sleeping in on a early winter morning and cuddling up together underneath the sheets… such beautiful thoughts that I realized I wanted more than anything in the world, and I knew I couldn't have that unless I was honest with him, because…

Because…

I loved him.

God, did I love him. It took me so long to actually figure it out, but it was the truth. Maybe that was why I had fought so hard – instinctively, I had known. I didn't want to love him and I knew that I shouldn't and these emotions were so overwhelming and strange and unfamiliar, but the love was entirely unmistakable. I couldn't deny it any longer.

Because I knew that he loved me, too.

A hand on my cheek jolted me out of my thoughts as Paul's thumb wiped away a tear from under my eye. I hadn't even realized that I was crying, and I quickly rubbed away the wetness with my hands, choking out a laugh of disbelief.

"What…?"

And I decided. In that split moment, I had made my decision. Swallowing nervously and pulling up every ounce of bravery I could muster, I leaned forward and placed a hand on Paul's cheek, slowly sliding it backwards until I had gripped lightly onto some of his hair. "Kiss me," I told him.

I could feel him stiffen slightly under me, looking down with masked eyes. I couldn't figure out what he was thinking, but easily gauged that he had to be confused. I would be if I were in his position. After a moment of silence, he finally asked with the smallest bit of hope barely hidden in his voice. "Does that mean it's real?"

My lip trembled, and I tried not to let my voice shake as I answered, "Yes."

Paul didn't hesitate a moment longer, the heat of his hand leaving a scorching trail down my cheek and to the base of my neck. His kiss was soft and slow, so different than our previous kiss that had been rough, rushed, and a clash of teeth and bitten lips. He pulled away from me but still remained close enough to keep us nose to nose, and I could feel his breath rushing over my face. Testing the waters. Seeing if I would pull away, get scared, or change my mind. But I didn't. I had no intentions of moving away from him and when he realized it, he leaned in again.

The palm of my hand settled on his chest above his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath my fingertips. He shifted, reaching out his free hand to curl tightly in the hem of my shirt as he pulled me even tighter against him. I could feel him smile against my lips, unconcerned or maybe having forgotten that his question had once again remained unanswered, but I hadn't. For now, though, in this tiny beautiful moment, I would enjoy the peace while it lasted.

A sigh entered the air, passing through me and entering into him in one breath, and I tightened my grip on his hair when he deepened the kiss. His skin was warm and intoxicating and he tasted like the wine he had sipped with his meal, and I quickly decided that I could quite easily spend the rest of my life kissing Paul.

But not while I wasn't being honest with him.

I pulled away regretfully, and his head followed me forward in an effort to not break our kiss. Chuckling, I placed both of my hands against his torso to keep him in place. "There's something that I need to tell you," I said, and my voice sounded embarrassingly hoarse. "I… I probably should have told you a long time ago, but I didn't want to because… I don't know how you'll take it."

He didn't sound winded like I had, but his answering response told me that he had been affected by our kiss, too. A breathy laugh entered the air, and he ran his thumb across my cheek. "Trust me when I tell you that I have absolutely no intention of letting you go after that."

I took a deep breath. "Paul, I've been –"

There was a ringing from somewhere that made me nearly jump out of my skin, in a place that was so dangerously close to my ear that I flinched forward into Paul's chest to get away from it. Spying the name on the screen, I scowled. _Oh, for fuck's sake, Isaac; what could you possibly want?_

"Your brother?" Paul asked, spying the name over my shoulder.

I nodded, simply reaching down to click the 'Ignore' button. Isaac would understand. His phone call could wait. But then when I opened my mouth to begin to explain to Paul what I had been hiding for so long, the phone rang again.

I nearly growled in my frustration, heart threatening to beat out of my chest.

"It has to be important," said Paul. "Answer it and see what he needs then we can finish our conversation."

So I did, quickly pressing the phone to my ear. "This better be important," I said, without bothering with any sort of introduction. "What could you possibly want that couldn't have waited until I got home?"

Isaac sounded rough and nervous. _Very_ nervous, in a way that made a wave of iciness rush over my skin as if someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. "I'm so sorry, Katherine, but I wouldn't have called if it wasn't extremely important. I – we kind of have a situation here."

I sat up and Paul's arms fell away from my body. "What's wrong?" I demanded.

"Nothing, nothing, I wouldn't really say anything is _wrong,_ " he began. There was a pause and a mumble in the background that sounded vaguely familiar, and I heard him hiss, " _I know, I'm working on it. Just give me a second._ " Then – "Everyone is okay, I promise. We're both fine and safe, but we kind of have a family emergency. You need to get home. Like… now, if possible."

"Who's there with you?" I questioned quickly, already pushing myself to my feet to search for my keys. I never even had to look, however, because Paul had also stood and tossed them to me. "If something's wrong –"

" _Nothing's wrong,_ " he urged determinedly. "Just – look, how fast can you get here? We're in the middle of what could be considered a family crisis and we need you here. Please."

"As soon as possible," I promised. "Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"No, like I told you before, we're both fine. Please just try and hurry." There was a pause. "But drive safe. Don't rush or anything."

"Okay, Paul and I are on our way right –"

"No!" his shout was so loud that it made me halt in my tracks. I glanced at Paul, who raised a surprised eyebrow. "I mean – it's a private matter. Not that I don't want Paul around or anything, but I - trust me, okay? Just you. I – and if Paul can hear this, I'm sorry, but I really just need my sister right now."

I stared at Paul expectantly, waiting for him to speak. When he didn't, I knew that he already knew what I would do. My family came first, as I had told him so many times before. "I'm sorry."

"You need to go and be with your family," he replied easily, nodding. "I understand. Really, I do. They come first."

"I'll call you," I said. "Let you know what's going on when things settle down and when I figure out what the hell he's gotten himself into within the last few hours." I placed my hand on the doorknob as I prepared myself to leave, but turned around at the last second. A silent debate in my head, I quickly leaned up and gave him a quick, chaste kiss before I rushed out the door with burning cheeks. "It's okay," I said into the phone. "I'm on my way right now. Are you sure everything is alright?"

As I started the truck, I glanced up to see Paul's form leaning against the doorframe, mostly illuminated from the light within the house. He was otherwise covered in shadow, and I gave him one last regretful look before I turned my attention back to my conversation.

"Physically? Yeah, of course. Emotionally?" Isaac paused. "Well, you'll be the judge of that when you get here."

oOo

I raced to my home faster than what was probably legal, heart racing and breathing heavy with nervous anticipation at what I would see when I arrived at the house. I barely noticed my surroundings as I jumped out of my truck before I had fully parked, too distracted by horrible thoughts of what could be going on inside of my house. Too distracted to care about my own safety. Too distracted to notice the spare set of tire tracks through the snow that led up to the house and headed toward the backyard. Too distracted to notice the man-made footprints leading up the porch steps. Too distracted to notice anything except my heart threatening to beat out of my chest and the terrified ringing in my ears.

Luke burst out of the house before I could even tear open the front door. "Mommy!"

Relief burst out of me like a tidal wave and I choked back a sob, running toward him and gathering him in my arms. "Oh, sweetie," I said, pulling back to plant a row of kisses along his face. "Are you okay?" I asked, quickly examining him for any broken bones or scratches or bruises or _anything_ that seemed even the slightest bit out of the ordinary.

But he didn't seem worried. In fact, he was the opposite – all smiling and giggly and pushing me away to stop me from kissing him again. "Mommy, stop!" he said with a laugh, reaching forward to grab my hand. "Come on, come on!" He dragged me forward into the house, practically jumping in excitement. "You have to see who came to visit us!"

The first thing I noticed was Isaac, who was sitting sideways on the living room couch with red-rimmed eyes. He looked blank and drained, emotionally exhausted from something that I simply couldn't perceive. Another stretch of relief went through my veins… until I saw the man sitting beside him.

At first, I stiffened. The man was facing Isaac so I wasn't able to see his face right away, but something about him seemed vaguely familiar, like a whisper from a dream that had long since been forgotten. Maybe it was because of the clothes he was wearing since they were so casual and all I had ever seen the man wearing had been business suits and tuxedo's. A frayed ball cap sat on the top of his head that mostly hid his perfectly trimmed hair, and his torso was covered in an expensive brown leather jacket on top of a plaid, button-up shirt.

Luke rushed past me to go to the man, and he let out a much too familiar laugh before pulling Luke onto his lap. Then he turned, and I caught a glimpse of a thin nose, pale skin, and icy blue eyes that I hadn't seen in months. When he spoke, he sounded gentle and the slightest bit regretful, as if he didn't want to be here just as much as I didn't want him here. "Hi there, Audrey."

I sucked in a steadying breath and found that I could say nothing but his name, " _Daniel._ "

oOo

 _Next Time:_ _Fears, decisions, and discovering the truth._


	29. A Secret Revealed

_So this chapter was a long time in coming and I'm so sorry for the wait. I just got back form visiting friends out of state again so I've been busy with that, and this chapter was... critical for me to get right, so I had to be careful about how I wrote it. Once you read it, I think you'll all understand why. Happy reading and thank you all so much for the reviews!_

oOo

Chapter 28:

 _"It's not my fault if - in God's plan - he made the devil so much stronger than a man."  
\- "Hellfire" from The Hunchback of Notre Dame_, _cover by AnnaPantsu_

 _"Daniel."_

"Audrey." The word sounded odd in the tiny room, as if it were simply not a place that the name belonged. He had slowly gotten to his feet and placed Luke on the floor, where the young boy immediately plopped onto the ground to play with the dog wagging its tail near his feet. "It's good to see you," Daniel added after a moment of awkward silence, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You look good, especially considering that I thought you've been dead for the last eight months."

It couldn't have been possible that he was here, standing in front of me when he should have been going over case files in an office in Washington D.C. I had to have been hallucinating. Yes. That had to be it. I was imagining this whole scenario because there was no possible way that Daniel _fucking_ Callaghan could be standing in my living room at that moment unless…

Unless…

Unless something really bad had happened. Unless our location had been compromised and something terrible had happened in D.C. that we didn't know about. Could this have simply been what I had been dreading all along – my worst nightmare becoming a reality?

"What –" I swallowed against the lump in my throat, fingers restlessly twitching at my sides. "What the hell are you doing here? How did you find us?"

He and Isaac exchanged a meaningful glance before Isaac looked down at his hands. "Why don't you come and sit down, Audrey, so we can talk?" Daniel said pointedly, gesturing to the empty spot on the couch next to Isaac. "There are a few things that we need to talk about before –"

" _No,_ " I turned up my nose at him, fists clenched and shaking at my sides. " _No!_ God _damn it_ – just tell me what's going on! You – you aren't supposed to _be here!_ "

"Monique gave me a push in the right direction on how to find you," he immediately tried to explain, eyes flashing. "Slipped me a piece of paper with your name and the name of this…" he grimaced, " town. It took me a while, but I did a little research and managed to find you about a week ago. Granted, I didn't exactly know for sure that it was you, but I had hoped…" He reached up and took off his cap to reveal a head of slightly curly blond hair, running his hands through his locks anxiously. "I don't know what I was expecting when I came here. I had hoped it would be you, but now I don't know whether I'm relieved or frustrated."

Something within the back of my brain clicked, and I immediately pushed past him to head to the window where the curtains were halfway open. I quickly shoved them together to hide what was going on inside from anyone – anything – that happened to be listening from outside, and hissed, "You're an idiot! You should have known better than to have come here. You put us all in danger and you know it! How could you be so foolish? What if someone had followed you?"

"I wasn't followed," he finally snapped, annoyance evident on his face. "Have a little faith in me, won't you? And even if I had been followed, it wouldn't matter. As far as I know, your location is already compromised, so you're lucky that I arrived when I did – and that it was me and not someone else."

I stared, slightly uncomprehending. Isaac coughed, reaching down to pull Luke and Oliver onto the couch with him in a gesture that was almost protective. "The only way our location would be discovered is if –" And from the looks on both Luke and Daniel's faces, realization dawned on me. "You wouldn't have come here if she was still alive. That's why she told you – she wouldn't have said anything otherwise if she hadn't known that…" I grit my teeth. "When?"

"Two days ago, I believe," he replied, shifting awkwardly in his spot. "I found out about it early this morning after I walked into the office. I knew that I couldn't wait any longer. I doubt Monique would reveal your location even if she was being – well, _enticed_ , but… she told me that she didn't really trust anyone in her office to keep the information safe. I don't know who else knows about where you all are, but I figured that you would rather be safe than sorry."

I was torn between thanking him and throttling him, taking a deep breath before I asked, "What are our options, then? Do we leave and go somewhere that's safer? If so, where do we go?"

"What? You can't possibly be serious," Isaac interjected immediately, getting to his feet with Luke still in his arms. Oliver whined from his position on the couch, gently swatting at the leg of Isaac's pants. " _Leaving La Push_? You know why that can't happen, Audrey. Paul would go absolutely nuts if we left and so would you."

"Who's Paul?" asked Daniel.

"Paul is a friend," I said, right at the moment that Isaac smugly stated, "Paul is Audrey's boyfriend."

"He's nice," Luke chimed in helpfully, cheerfully kicking his feet. "He got us a puppy for Christmas and mommy talks about him a lot."

"Paul is a _friend_ of mine," I corrected swiftly, though I felt my cheeks heat at Daniel's raised eyebrows. "He's helped us out a lot over the last few months. He's – it's complicated. The point is that we've all made some pretty fantastic friends here and it'll be difficult to just leave." I paused and quickly added, "But not impossible, if that's what it takes."

Isaac's eyes went wide. "Audrey, we can't –"

"Isaac, now is _seriously_ not the time," I warned him, giving him a look that could have melted ice.

"So that's it, then?" he asked harshly, eyes blazing with a fury that I didn't expect. "After everything we've gained here – the lives we've built and the friends we've made – you're ready to give all of that up without a second thought? What is _wrong_ with you?"

" _Isaac, go up to your room and stay there!_ " I snapped, pointing angrily toward the staircase. " _Now!_ "

Oliver jumped off of the couch and hid under the coffee table as Isaac kicked at the couch and stormed away, grumbling curses under his breath while a concerned Luke looked confusedly over his shoulder. When the two boys had disappeared up the stairs, I plopped down on the couch with the dog wagging its tail at my feet, burying my face in my hands. "This can't be happening," I murmured aloud.

I felt the couch sink in beside me as Daniel sat down, sighing. "I'm sorry. I know that this is probably the worst news you could possibly hear, but… I don't know. I guess a part of me thought that you would be happy to leave town, since this isn't exactly the type of place that you used to spend your time. I didn't think you all would have assimilated. It's unlike you."

"It's hard not to assimilate here," I responded quietly. "These people have a way of getting under your skin and forcing themselves into your life. They're all wonderful, though, don't get me wrong, but they make things complicated now."

There was a pause. "And this Paul guy –"

"Is irrelevant right now, considering the circumstances," I finished. At Daniel's stern look, I shook my head. "He makes me happy. The first guy to do that in a very long time."

"Ouch."

"You're different," I mumbled. "You always _have_ been different to me, and you know it." I finally glanced over and shoved his shoulder with my own, "I know this might not be the best time, but I think you should know: I missed you."

He gave me a strange look, as if he was suddenly seeing me in a brand new light, but eventually nudged me back. "I missed you, too."

oOo

The beginning of the reveal of Audrey's secrets to the rest of the pack did not actually start with Audrey. As a matter of fact, the little cocoon of contentment did not start with any of her family members, though some would argue that Isaac was at fault despite his great intentions. No, the beginning of the drama did not start with the Perdue family – or the Montgomery's, for that matter. Instead, it began in another wooden house on the La Push reservation, where another loving family of three had been residing: the Clearwater's.

And later, everyone would find it quite odd to realize that none of the pack would have ever discovered the secret had Sue Clearwater not lost the number to the local pizza restaurant.

"I know for a fact that I wrote it down," the older woman ranted to her daughter in frustration, tossing her hands into the air in exasperation. "I know I did because I _specifically_ remember that I couldn't find a pen, then after I wrote it down, I put it on the fridge under one of the magnets because I knew I would forget it the next time we decided to order out."

"Maybe it happened to fall off and slip under the fridge or something," Leah suggested lazily, chin in her hand and pointedly not making a move to get up and help her mother. "Or maybe Seth was sleep-walking, thought it was food, and ate it while looking for a snack."

"Could you lose the attitude and be serious for five seconds, please?" Sue scowled, though a flicker of a smile appeared on her lips. Then she sighed in resignation, hands on her hips. "We'll just have to look the number up on the computer, I suppose. Would you mind…?"

Leah rolled her eyes and dragged herself out of her chair. "I _guess_ I could look it up. It might take a while for the computer to load, though, so you'll have to be patient."

"Aren't I the one that's usually telling that to you?"

"I'm not the one who had a sudden craving for pepperoni and sausage and decided to go and lose the number to the restaurant," Leah teased, trotting her way to the computer room and flopping herself down in the old chair. Then she called out, "And I'm ordering an extra pack of breadsticks because Seth ate them all last time!"

Sue called out a confirming response, but Leah had barely heard it as the computer began to loudly whizz to life before her. Her eyes slightly glazed over as she waited, absently tapping a steady rhythm on the arm of her chair as she waited. Then it was more waiting for the Internet icon to load and the browser to actually open up, until she was finally staring at the Yahoo! home page.

Then she was struck with a brilliant idea – it hadn't been that long since they had ordered pizza. Maybe the website was still in the search history. It would be easier to just go straight to the source than to have to wait for the search engine to load, then to scroll through the links and look through the website, wouldn't it? Of course. So, praising her own brilliance and mentally giving herself a pat on the back, Leah clicked on the little icon on the browser that led to the search history. She quickly scrolled through the links: yahoo mail, a billing website that was probably her mother's half-assed attempt to pay the bills online, and… ah, yes – the pizza place.

But then, something right under the link that would lead them to sweet and cheesy pizza-goodness caught her eye – a New York Times news article that was titled, ' _Tragedy in Coldwell Condominiums._ '

Leah made a face, frowning intently at the screen. "What the hell?" she murmured curiously, giving the link a click. The only person in their household that had ever read anything news related was her father, and when he was alive he had only ever read the newspaper. If it hadn't been so out of place, she might have skipped over the link without a second thought, but as it was, the unfamiliar nature of the link struck her curiosity.

The more she read, the deeper her frown became. Her confusion grew with each word that her eyes traced over, and when she saw the picture located on the bottom of the article, her heart nearly stopped. Without a word, she calmly printed out the page in their ancient printer, pushed back from the desk, and walked past her mother's confused and questioning words to her brother's bedroom. She knocked a rhythm on the wood with her knuckles, sweetly calling out, "Seth? Can I talk to you for a second?"

There was a mumbled response from the other side of the door that told her that Seth had probably been asleep. She heard the rustling of blankets being shoved aside, a slight thump that she assumed was Seth falling out of his bed, and then the door was pulled open by her baby brother with a yawn and half-lidded eyes. "What?"

The printed out pieces of paper were clutched in a tight, shaking fist behind her back, but Leah kept herself calm as she asked, "Is there something that you want to tell me, baby brother?"

His blank and tired stare made her believe that he might actually have no idea what she was talking about, but she wasn't quite ready to back down. "Huh?"

"Hm." She pursed her lips. "Let's try this again, shall we?" And with a fury that surprised both of them, she grabbed her brother by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall next to his bedroom door. He let out a shout of surprise as she moved her enraged face directly in front of his as their mother appeared at the top of the stairs and stared at her children in shock. " _Is there something that you want to tell me?_ "

"Leah!" Sue shouted in shock, taking a step forward but not quite brave enough to pull Leah away from Seth. "What on earth are you doing? Let him go this instant!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I swear!" Seth exclaimed, struggling to press himself into the wall in order to get away from Leah's rage. When he failed, he immediately began thinking of everything he could have possibly done to get on his sister's nerves. "I – I mean, I ate the last of your Frosted Flakes two days ago, but I was going to put it on the shopping list so that mom could get more – I just forgot!"

"I – wait, what?" Leah quickly shook her head, jostling her brother slightly. "No, you idiot! That isn't what I'm talking about!" She whipped her other hand from behind her back and shoved the papers in his face. " _This! This is what I'm talking about!_ " Releasing him and waving the papers franticly, she pointed at the picture at the bottom of the article. "What the _fuck_ is this?"

Seth went cross-eyed trying to read the paper since it was so close to his face, but when he managed to get the gist of what was written on the pages, his entire face drained of color. "Where did you find –"

"You didn't delete your search history on the computer, idiot." Leah scowled, shoving the papers in her mother's direction so that Sue could see an explanation of Leah's outrageous behavior. "But stop trying to change the subject. _Is. It. Real?_ "

"I'm not supposed to say anything!" he finally exclaimed, almost desperate and pleading in his tone. "You weren't even supposed to find out. Aiden – I mean, Isaac – well, Aiden, now, I guess – he told me about it all because he was tired of keeping it from everyone. He just needed someone to talk to and – oh, God, he's going to kill me! He asked me to keep it a secret and –"

"Seth!" Sue's sudden interruption caught the attention of both Seth and Leah. "How long have you known about this? And Leah, for God's sake, would you stand down and stop acting like you're going to attack your brother at any moment?"

Leah frowned but did as her mother ordered, stepping back from her brother with her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"I've known about it for a while – not _that_ long, though," he admitted, fidgeting and fixing his collar from where Leah had nearly ripped it. "I found out on Christmas Day. He passed me a note with their names when he left Emily's to go home, and I looked it up online later. Then I went over to his place and he confirmed it all for me. He was kind of vague about it – I figured that it was a sensitive subject, so I didn't press for details – but I could tell that it was really bothering him. Kind of understandable since they're on the run from a criminal."

Leah was fuming and both Sue and Seth could see it. "That -" Her face turned a dark red and she struggled to hold in her anger. "That _bitch!_ I can't believe that she kept this a secret for this long! Why wouldn't she have told us anything? I thought that we were all supposed to be _friends_!"

"None of them were supposed to say anything," Seth rushed to answer. "Didn't you read the article? They're supposed to be _dead_. They came here because they're in witness protection, Leah – they can't just go blurting out their whole life stories to everyone! It completely defeats the purpose!"

"Who else knows about this, Seth?" Sue questioned gently.

He thought about it for several moments. "Just me," he eventually admitted. "And now both of you. I think Sam suspects that she's hiding something but he obviously doesn't have any idea what it is. Audrey – Katherine, whatever – didn't even tell Paul about it. I know they were having a date tonight but I doubt she told him anything. Aiden said she was determined to keep it a secret to protect us. She was afraid that we would get hurt if something was to happen, or that she would lose Paul. Lose all of us."

"Fucking imprints," Leah snarled, tossing her hands up in exasperation. "This whole damn time she was hiding _everything_ from us. What was she expecting? That she would spend the rest of her life lying about who she is? That she would – what, get married and fuck Paul and have him not even know her real name? I mean, what kind of person _does_ something like that?"

"Leah!" Sue snapped, scolding. "She is someone who is obviously worried about the safety of her family. If they're all in witness protection then they wouldn't have been able to tell anyone anything. Not even Paul. Or you. Aiden -" she glanced down at the paper, "or Isaac, I guess, shouldn't have even said anything to Seth. But I understand why he did. I can't imagine what that poor boy must be going through, having to hide who he is. All of them, really, being uprooted from their homes…"

"That's irrelevant!" Leah exclaimed. "If she was any other person, it would be different, but she's _not_. She's an _imprint._ She's _pack._ As if we couldn't kick the ass of this fucking guy she's running from a thousand times over, but no. She has to be a fucking martyr and hide everything from everyone and cause all sorts of bullshit drama! She should have just told us from the beginning so we could have protected her, but now –"

Leah cut herself off when she realized that her hands were shaking so harshly that they were starting to blur. Her whole body let out a giant shiver and she suddenly pushed past her mother – making sure to snatch the papers out of her hands as she did – and all but dove down the stairs. A burst of cold air entered the house when she shoved open the front door, barely making it off of the front porch before she exploded into fur. Her clothes exploded into strips of fabric and the papers fluttered to the ground from the air. She quickly grabbed the crumpled remains of the pages with her teeth and took off through the trees, vaguely aware that her brother was chasing after her and that there were suddenly two other voices conversing in her head.

Embry and Jacob had been patrolling the outer portions of the reservation when she had phased. All had been quiet on their land for a long time until now, both of the men wondering what she was doing and why she was so furious. She was unable to keep her racing thoughts to herself, images and snippets of the last few minutes splattering across her brain and into theirs.

And suddenly _they_ knew, too.

" _What the hell is going on over there, Leah?"_ asked Jacob. " _Are you guys okay? Wait, where are you going?_ "

" _Who's Audrey?_ " questioned Embry. " _Wait, is that – is that Katherine? What in the world –_ "

But she wasn't okay and she couldn't explain to them how she felt – not in the slightest, and her thoughts were much too scattered for anyone to make any sense of them. She didn't _try_ to make sense of them, either. She simply ignored the fact that her brother was chasing after her, ignored the " _Leah, stop!_ " that was shouted at her through their conjoined thoughts, and ignored the aching feeling of betrayal and anticipation that was surging through her chest.

Paul's house was unlit when she arrived, the building covered in darkness. She all but skidded to a stop in the snow near the front porch, dropping the papers from her jaws and into the snow and letting out several loud barks to let Paul know that she was there -

Right as she was tackled by Seth. A yelp escaped her jaws and she automatically snapped at him. A series of growls and snarls burst through the air, and out of the corner of her eye as she dove to the side to avoid a sideswiped paw to the face, Leah saw the upstairs light to Paul's bedroom flicker on. " _Leah, please stop!_ " her brother begged, narrowly escaping a snap at his neck. " _This isn't right and you know it! It isn't your secret to tell!_ "

" _She lost her chance!_ " she snapped back, surprising Seth at the amount of pain and betrayal that were surging through her thoughts. _"This is the second time in my life that I've had someone I love betray me, and damn it, I refuse to stand back and not doing anything about it this time!"_

 _"Betrayal?"_ asked Embry suddenly, but Seth and Leah ignored him.

The front door swung open to reveal a sleepy-looking Paul, and both wolves turned to face his exasperated expression. Seth whined nervously as Paul asked, "What the fuck are you two _doing_ out here?"

" _Yeah,_ " said Jacob wryly in their thoughts, " _I'd like to know the same thing._ "

"Do you need clothes?" Paul suddenly asked, glancing down to see that Leah's weren't attached to her leg. When she nodded and Seth whined sharply again, he rolled his eyes and entered the house once more.

" _Seth, what's going on?_ " Jacob asked again. " _What are the two of you freaking out about? And what – who's Audrey? What does she have to do with Katherine?_ "

A wad of extra large clothes was thrown into her face, and Leah immediately went to the side of the house to phase and dress. " _Katherine and Audrey are the same person, idiot!_ " she roughly barked, before she was alone with her thoughts once again.

Leah was practically drowning in the large clothes that Paul had tossed her, but she didn't care how ridiculous she looked. She stormed around the house and snatched up the papers off of the ground, waving them wildly in the air as Seth phased and quickly pulled on his pants somewhere behind her. "Leah, wait –"

" _Where is she?_ " Leah immediately demanded, storming past Paul and into his living room like she would catch her target hiding behind the sofa. "I know she was here today so you two could have your stupid date. Is that lying, infuriating _psychopath_ still here or did she already go home?"

"What the hell are you even talking about, Leah?" Paul asked incredulously, grabbing her by the forearm in order to get her to stop and focus on what she was saying. When she violently ripped her arm out of his grasp, Paul took a step back and raised his arms in defense. "Calm down, okay? Tell me what's going on. Are you talking about Katherine?"

Leah gave a loud snort as Seth uncomfortably shifted back and forth on his feet, nervously wringing his hands together. " _Katherine_ ," Leah spat out, waving the papers clutched in her hands wildly. "Tell me something, Lahote – did you know about all of this? About how your wonderful little imprint has been playing us all for fools since the first moment she stepped onto this fucking reservation?"

Paul's eyes narrowed in blatant suspicion, and Leah suddenly realized that Paul had obviously been in the dark just like the rest of them. "What are you trying to tell me, Leah? Do you know something that I don't?"

"A lot, apparently, but I only found out a few minutes ago." She shoved the papers toward his chest with only a fractional amount of guilt swimming in the pit of her stomach. It was almost immediately shoved down almost as soon as it had appeared. "Seth, on the other hand," she added with a glare at her brother, who visibly deflated as he accepted his fate, "has known about it since _Christmas._ Go on. Read it. See what she's been hiding from us this whole time."

Seth mumbled something unintelligible behind them, but neither Leah nor Paul paid him any mind.

Leah waited as Paul simply stared down at the paper, reading over what he saw but not comprehending it. "I – what, exactly, am I looking at?" he asked quietly, flipping through the pages a second and third time. He let out a deep breath of air that Leah didn't think was as calming as he wanted it to be, but she didn't say a word until he finally looked up and questioned, "Where did you find this?"

"Seth doesn't know how to delete his Internet history," she stated snootily. "I found it while I was looking for the phone number to the pizza place. Imagine my surprise when I see this stupid article saying that the person we've been letting ourselves hang around for the last few months isn't exactly who she says that she is."

"They're under witness protection," Seth weakly, though helpfully, tried to add, though his words fell on half-deaf ears. "They weren't supposed to tell _anyone_ –"

"Then how did you find out?" Paul asked swiftly, and Seth could see the beginnings of a rage in his friend's eyes that he hadn't seen the likes of in months.

It was that look in Paul's eyes and a sense of self-preservation that made Seth answer honestly. "Her brother told me. Like Leah said, he hinted at it on Christmas and I did some research."

"That's what you went over to the house for that night," Paul said in realization, nodding absently. "What you and Aiden were talking about when he turned on his music, and why you were so panicked… You're sure that this is real?"

"I'm positive," Seth confirmed, ignoring his sister's icy gaze. "She wanted to tell you," he added swiftly. "She couldn't, though, because she thought it would put everyone in danger. You shouldn't blame her for hiding it or keeping secrets –"

"Oh, don't be stupid, Seth," Paul interrupted in frustration, though his eyes shown a weariness that neither Seth nor Leah had ever seen on Paul's face. "You're starting to sound like Sam. Do you both honestly think that I was so oblivious that I didn't realize that she was still hiding something from me this whole time? Of course I knew. I just..." He frowned, glancing down at the papers once again before crumpling them in his fists. "I never imagined that it would be something as crazy as this."

Leah frowned at the look on Paul's face and she had a moment of regret at even thinking about showing him those papers. She couldn't imagine how he must have been feeling - to know that your imprint had been lying to you from the very beginning... But like the guilt, the regret that she felt was gone almost immediately. Besides, she wouldn't have been able to do anything about it anyway because the damage was already done. Katherine - no, _Audrey -_ had dug her own grave; now she had to lie in it. "What are we going to do?"

"We?" Paul shook his head. "Leah -"

"You aren't the only one who's been wronged here, Paul," Leah said, tightly crossing her arms over her chest and feeling particularly vulnerable for a reason she simply couldn't fathom. In a way of explanation, she stated, "She was my _friend_."

Paul must have seen something on her expression that told him whatever he needed to know, because he gave a single, determined nod and said, "I guess we'll just have to go and find our answers straight at the source."

oOo

The pungent smell of expensive whiskey permeated the air of the kitchen, swishing around in the bottom of the two cups. The glass clinked against the wooden table as I spun it around with my fingertips, staring down at the amber liquid with derision.

"I'm so sorry."

I looked up to where Daniel was sitting across from me at the table, nursing his own glass of spirits. I shook my head in his direction, pushing several strands of stray hair out of my eyes. "Don't start apologizing for something that wasn't your fault. You know how much I hate that."

There was a lazy, slightly inebriated chuckle as he raised the glass to his lips to take a long sip. "I had a feeling that something was wrong the moment Monique stepped into my office. I could tell that she wasn't feeling like herself." He tiredly rubbed his eyes. "I should have done something to stop her but she was gone before I could even organize my thoughts and realize that –"

"If Monique wanted something then nothing would have stopped her from doing exactly what she wanted," I replied thoughtfully, chuckling. "You know, I thought it was strange that I hadn't heard from her in so long. At least now I know why she hasn't been in contact. In some ways, that's a lot better than not knowing." I paused. "Also a lot worse, too."

There was a moment of silence where Daniel shifted awkwardly in his seat, rubbing his chin where the shadow of a beard was slowly beginning to emerge. I still found it strange to see him like this – so messy, unshaven, and unkempt. Exhausted. Resigned. "You realize what has to be done, don't you?"

"I know," I murmured, swallowing a substantial gulp of my drink before reaching forward to grab the bottle and top off both of our glasses. "It isn't going to be easy. Luke will – I think he'll be okay. A little confused at why we're leaving so suddenly and maybe upset to leave everyone, but he'll get over it. Isaac is a different story. He'll fight it tooth and nail, I know he will. As for me, I –" I refused to meet his eyes as I shook my head, "We made a good, safe life here, Daniel – one where we didn't need to look over our shoulders all the time. Now it's all gone to _waste_."

"Is it because of that guy?" he asked suddenly, fingers tightening automatically around his glass. "What was his name – Pete, something? Hm. Not like you to befriend the opposite sex at all, so imagine my surprise when I knocked at the front door and Isaac told me that you were on a date with some _guy_."

"I'm not completely inept when it comes to guys," I muttered half-heartedly. "If I was then you probably wouldn't be here. You're a male, right? Unless you've been lying to me this whole time or something…" At the blank though slightly disappointed look he gave me, I chose my words carefully and continued, "His name is Paul. Honestly, if you met him you would probably think that I was crazy because he's the kind that I usually avoid - so intimidating and he's angry all the time and he's absolutely awful and drives me insane, but… he's different."

"So Isaac wasn't lying, then. A boyfriend." His laugh was slightly breathless, traced with incredulous disbelief. "Well, I'll be damned. Never thought I would see the day that the Ice Queen would settle down with a _boyfriend_. I guess hell really has frozen over. If I look out the window, will I see some flying pigs?"

"He's not my boyfriend, technically," I corrected softly, ignoring the gibe. "Not officially. He was an almost boyfriend. An almost something."

Daniel nodded. "I'm happy for you."

Despite myself, I snorted. A burst of laughter left my lips as I rolled my eyes, presumably a result of the lowered inhibitions given to me by my short sips of alcohol. "No, you're not. Don't lie."

He went quiet and I glanced up to see that his cheeks were tinted a slight red. Slightly ashamed at my sudden implied accusations, I glanced down at my glass, but eventually he admitted, "No, you're right. I'm not happy, but I can pretend for your sake, at least." He tapped his fingers anxiously against the table before asking, "How long have you known?"

"I suspected for a long time," I answered slowly. "Didn't actually get confirmed until today. You wouldn't have come here if you didn't –" I swallowed, cutting off my own words. "I care about you, you know. I really do, even if I've never actually shown it. Besides Luke and Isaac, you were one of the only guys I could actually stand to be around. You took a chance on me and I can't ever repay you for that, so I _do_ care… even if I don't -"

"It's irrelevant," he said airily, waving my words away. He took another sip of his drink and cleared his throat. "I was never expecting anything and I was never foolish enough to think that anything could come out of it. I may not like it, but I'm content with knowing that you're happy. You… _are_ happy, right?"

After a brief moment of thought, I slowly nodded. "Yeah. He makes me happy. So _fucking_ happy – more than I've ever been in my life. I honestly wouldn't even know how to explain it if I tried."

Daniel frowned thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "Hm. What are you going to do, then?"

I pushed my glass aside and rubbed my temples. "I have no fucking idea. Paul is – he's a lot more complicated than some silly fling. He knows about… about everything. About me, about Luke and our parents…" I trailed off, burying my head in my hands. "For God's sake, I was going to tell him my real name tonight. What could I have possibly been thinking?" There was a pause and I bitterly added, "Well I guess it doesn't really matter now anyway."

"You were going to tell him?" At my nod, he sighed and scolded, "Audrey, you know you can't _do_ that. What if –"

"What if, what if, all of these stupid _what ifs._ " I scowled deeply, pushing away from the table and rising to my feet to cork the bottle of whiskey and put it back into its spot in the cabinet. "Don't treat me like I'm a child who doesn't have any idea what's at stake here. These were… extenuating circumstances. He was – he's _Paul_. I couldn't keep it from him any longer because I… lying to him was practically tearing me apart."

"Oh, my God," he sounded slightly incredulous, rising to his feet when I did but not bothering to follow the rest of my movements. It was like he was too in shock of whatever he had suddenly realized to even move. I ignored him, frowning, and leaned forward to fix the blinds over the kitchen window right as he stated, "You love him."

I had spent so many days lying to myself that I didn't find the strength to deny Daniel's words. Instead I simply nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "Yeah," I murmured. "I do. I don't want to leave this place, Daniel. This is my home now. I've made friends here, I've… I – these are people that I _love._ "

His light footsteps trotted across the wooden floors until I could see him lean against the counter next to me, both of us staring at nothing in particular. "You've really gotten yourself into a mess, haven't you?"

It wasn't exactly a secret anymore. We both knew that I was probably royally screwed with whatever I chose. Either I could leave without warning and lose everything we've gained in La Push, or I could stay and risk the lives of everyone on the entire reservation. I was stuck between two different loves, and I couldn't quite see a solution that wouldn't lead to pain. "What should I do?"

"That's not up for me to decide," he replied gently, hesitating for only a moment before reaching out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder from which I didn't flinch away. "If you really want my opinion, though, I feel as if you really have three options: first and probably the worst choice out of all, you could stay here, I could leave, and we could all hope for the best."

I shook my head. "If I did that, I might as well just hand myself over right now. What are my other options?"

"If you truly think he's…" Daniel grimaced, " _the one,_ you could always follow through with what you were going to do and tell him the truth. Then he could go with you wherever you ended up."

"No," I said immediately, reaching up to rub my eyes in my frustration. "That's not an option either. He wouldn't leave the reservation even if I begged him. He _can't_. Not so permanently, at least. He wouldn't even consider it. And that's even _if_ he didn't completely hate me after I told him the truth. What else?"

"We leave," he said simply. "I take you and the boys someplace safe – someplace that no one knows except the two of us. I have a few contacts in the area that I trust that could make the three of you brand new identities. We'd take a road trip to wherever you wanted to go and find you a home there."

I frowned. That wasn't exactly the most appealing option, either, but I knew that we had to do _something._ Doing nothing, like I had said before, could be practically equated to just handing myself over. Then again, it could be that De Palma had absolutely no idea where I was and we were just overreacting, but did I really want to take that chance and put my family at risk? Of course not. "I don't know what to do."

"Of course you don't," he said kindly. "How could you? I guess you just have to ask yourself whether or not you love this guy enough to let him go."

I knew my answer and so did Daniel. How could I not know? I had already admitted how I felt about Paul and, imprint or no imprint, it didn't take a genius to figure out that my feelings were strong. In fact, I was sure that my answer was written across my face, unable to be hidden away any longer.

But before I could say anything and give him my answer, there was a knock at the door. Not just any knock, either. It was a trio of pointed, ominous knocks that made a tense stillness permeate the already uneasy atmosphere. Both Daniel and I stiffened at the sound and after a moment of hesitation, I slowly peeked through the curtain above the sink and spied… nothing. No vehicles or people lingering anywhere in the vicinity that I could see, but that didn't really mean anything in this town.

"Were you expecting someone?" Daniel questioned lowly, intently staring in the direction of the door as if he could see straight through the wall and burn a whole through whoever happened to be standing on the other side.

"No," I murmured back, fingers anxiously twitching at my sides. "But it isn't uncommon for some of the people here to show up without notice. Besides, I highly doubt that – well, _You-Know-Who_ would be so polite as to knock at the front door."

"Yes, well, when Voldemort shows up," he hissed almost sarcastically, pushing himself off of the counter and quickly heading in the direction of the living room, "be sure to let me know."

With pursed lips, I watched him reach down to the couch where his duffel bag full of clothes was thrown, and before I could even ask him what he was doing – right as another, more urgent knock came at the door – he emerged from the bag with a small metal device that was much too familiar – I would know, of course, considering the fact that I had one in my bedside table.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," I sighed in exasperation, shoving him aside to head to the front door. "Can you cool your jets for about five seconds, Clint Eastwood? Just -" I gently positioned him behind the door and gestured for him to stay there on the off chance that things went sour. "Stay there and don't come out all half-cocked unless I say so."

Before he could say anything, I gently reached forward and pulled back the curtain hanging over the window next to the door as carefully as I could, peeking out to try and catch a glimpse of whoever was standing on my porch. When I saw who it was, I wasn't quite sure if I felt relief or exasperation. I gave him a thumbs up and quickly shoved open the door, mustering up the most weary expression I could find within me – not exactly the hardest thing that I've ever had to do.

Paul, Leah, and Seth were standing on my front porch with varying expressions that, frankly, confused me. Seth looked panicked and slightly fearful, Leah's eyes blazed, as if she wanted to strangle me from the moment that I opened the door, and Paul… well, for some reason, he was a cross between disappointed and furious.

"This is certainly a surprise," I mumbled quietly, stepping out to stand in the cold with them and pulling the door shut behind me. "Look: it's not as if I'm not happy to see any of you, but now really isn't the best time for a neighborly visit. We're in the middle of a family crisis right now and I –"

"A crisis," Paul repeated blankly. "Is that what we're calling it now?" There was something behind his eyes that I couldn't identify, but it seemed much too close to betrayal. My heart ached for a reason I couldn't comprehend, and I found myself furrowing my brow as he continued, "Does your little crisis have anything to do with this?"

Several wrinkled sheets of paper were shoved in front of my face and when I took them out of his hand, an ache of foreboding thrust itself through my heart that was so harsh it made my knees weak. My eyes fell onto the title of the article and my lungs seemed to lose all of the oxygen inside of them, as if I had been suddenly slammed in the chest with a bat, and I had to lean on the doorframe for support so that I wouldn't topple over. "Where did you find this?" I demanded quickly, though my voice was so low that I barely heard myself speak.

"Tell me that it isn't true," Paul responded, though from the look on his face, I could tell that he had already made his choice and wouldn't believe whatever type of denial that I could create. "Tell me that it's just some weird misunderstanding and that there's some other explanation for all of this."

I looked down at the papers again before glancing up at Paul, opening my mouth to say… something. But there were no words that came to mind that could effectively defuse the situation. Paul's body language told me that he had all but completely shut down, stand-offish as his shoulders automatically leaned farther and farther away from me every second that I didn't give him a response. I saw it as plain as the picture on the pages in my hands – he had already given up on me. Trust gone. So quickly. So easily. _Just. Like. That._ "You shouldn't believe everything you read online," I eventually responded, tone clipped and guarded. Without a moment of hesitation, I pointedly folded the papers over and shoved them in my back pocket. "Obviously I'm not dead and neither are the boys."

Leah was the one to speak next, and I was in my right mind enough to raise an eyebrow at the baggy and slightly ragged clothes that she was wearing, but she didn't notice. She was too rough and determined to get her words out and scold me for keeping secrets for so long to notice anything else around her. "But the rest of it? It's all true, isn't it?"

The nervous part of my mind immediately urged me to lie, but any lie I could have told would have been so farfetched that I knew that none of them would believe it. The other, more sensible part of me was resigned. The cat was out of the bag now and it happened at what was the worst possible time. I grimaced, knowing that there was only one action for me to take. Sighing, I shoved open the door. "Why don't you all come inside? We need to talk."

oOo

 _Next Time:_ _Final confessions, no regrets, and imprints._


	30. An Imprint in the Heart

_Firstly, thank you to each and every person from the bottom of my heart who left a review! You are all wonderful and reading them makes me smile - and I'm sorry if I haven't been keeping up with review replies. Exam time always gets a little hectic, so it's hard to keep up with them!_

 _Secondly, hello to all of you new people! Welcome and enjoy the ride with the rest of us!_

Chapter 30:

" _Hearts are wild creatures; that's why our ribs are cages." – Unknown_

 _"Why don't you all come inside? We need to talk."_

"No."

I blinked in shock at Paul's sudden, unhesitating rejection. I had braced myself for a disagreement – for a knockdown, drag-out fight with a list of reasons why everything that had happened between us so far had been based on a lie – but his blatant, unflinching refusal actually made me pause. The fire blaring behind his eyes was filled with a determination that I had never seen before, and I realized that maybe this was the breaking point I had been dreading all along. "Excuse me?"

Paul never even had the chance to reply to my dumbfounded questions because our attention was suddenly drawn to the fact that the door had swung open behind me. Daniel stood stiffly with his hand braced against the doorframe, half-bathed in shadow and the yellow light that was seeping out from inside the house. The gun had disappeared from his grasp but I instinctively knew that it still had to be somewhere on his person. He was too on edge to have stepped outside without some sort of protection. "Sorry for the interruption," he said, not looking very sorry at all, "but this is a conversation that might need to be taken inside, away from anyone else that happens to be listening."

In retrospect, I should have realized that a meeting between Daniel and Paul couldn't have ever gone smoothly. A man's instinctive jealousy at the arrival of another alpha male is truly an incredible thing to witness. It would seem that the stupidity of the situation truly knows no bounds. "And just who the fuck are you?"

Daniel had crossed his arms over his chest narrowed his eyes at Paul, studying him in that intense way that he usually reserved for criminals in the courtroom. The look was unnerving in a way that made me shift in my spot, like I was guilty for something that I hadn't done, but it didn't seem that it had the same effect on Paul. "I think I'm the one in the position to be asking the questions here," he stated suspiciously, and I felt his hand rest protectively on my shoulder as if he was going to pull me back into the house at any moment. "Who are _you?_ "

Paul's eyes were laser-guided to the hand on my shoulder, and it was as if I could practically see the steam rushing out of his ears with his rage.

But before I could make any introductions, Daniel turned to me incredulously and said, "You've got to be kidding me. This is _him?"_

I sighed. This was going about as well as could be expected under the circumstances, but I hoped that I wouldn't have to call someone over to break up a fight in the middle of my front yard. That would certainly be the icing on the metaphorical cake, wouldn't it? Then again, I doubt it would have been much of a fight. Daniel wasn't exactly a gentle spring daisy, but one swift punch from Paul could probably render him unconscious instantaneously.

As amusing as that thought was, there were more important matters at hand. We were in the middle of a midlife crisis and they were busy _posturing._ It was past time for me to step in and stop them both before it got out of hand, because it looked as if Paul was about ready to snap. "Alright, boys; that's enough," I interjected, stepping between them and placing a hand on Paul's chest to keep him away. "Let's stop measuring the dicks and relax for a moment, okay? If everyone would just step inside for a moment, we can get this all sorted out and everyone can move on with their lives."

"Mind if we join in?" came a voice from somewhere near the forest. Between two large tree trunks emerged two other figures that appeared baffled but determined – Jacob and Embry. "We'd like to get an explanation of what's going on, too? Mind telling us who the hell Audrey is?"

I rubbed my eyes with my hands as everyone around me stiffened.

"Fantastic," Daniel sarcastically stated from behind me. "Why don't we just contact CNN and have it broadcasted all over the news? Or better yet, let's have it placed on the front page of the New York Times tomorrow morning! Those vultures would be happy for such a great scoop, and since the entirety of this town seems to know all about it, it seems like the most logical thing to do."

"For God's sake, Daniel," I snapped, reaching around to shove his shoulder. "Can you keep your mouth shut for about five seconds?" I took in a deep, rough breath before turning back to the others, all of whom were staring at me with varying expressions of incredulity and confusion. "Look: obviously you all have a lot of questions, which is completely fine and totally expected, but I feel that it would be easier if we call a…" I glanced at Daniel for half of a moment before turning to meet Jacob's gaze, "meeting with the guys so I can get all of the information out at once instead of having to repeat myself. Would that be possible?"

But… but Jacob wasn't even looking at me anymore. As a matter of fact, _no one_ was looking at me. The eyes of each and every person gathered around my porch had moved to something that was equally – if not more – interesting. Or appalling. Baffling, really, depending on how you looked at it. As soon as I realized it, I had frozen, too. It was so sudden. So surprising and shocking that no one had expected it. Not bad, per say, but… a random happenstance with _extremely poor timing._

Because at some point when the rest of us hadn't been paying attention, Daniel's gaze met Leah's and the whole situation became infinitely more complicated.

oOo

"I hope you realize that this is probably one of the worst ideas you've ever had."

From my cross-legged position on the floor of my bedroom, half-bent over dusty boxes that I had drug out from the back of my closet, I rolled my eyes at where Daniel was sitting on the edge of the bed. Pulling out yet another newspaper article having to deal with the case, I placed it on the steadily growing stack and continued digging. "I'm the last person you need to tell that to – I already know how terrible of an idea this is, but I don't really have a lot of options open for me at the moment."

"We could leave," he suggested, sending me a look that said he was clearly questioning my sanity. "Right now, without any damage being done to anyone. Sure, your friends would be upset and so would the boys, but it would be better, if you ask me. These people… they're really strange." A far off expression appeared on his face. It was one that I knew well enough to know exactly where his thoughts were straying, already having been taken aback by some cosmic power of which he had no understanding. "It kind of makes me uncomfortable, to be honest with you."

 _Yeah, join the club._ I didn't bother trying to argue with him, knowing that I wouldn't be able to sway any opinions or conclusions that he had made within the span of the last few hours. Random, freakishly large and half naked people coming out of the trees like something out of a fantasy movie, being intently stared at by a woman that he had never met before, then watching said woman run away so quickly that the only evidence that she had ever been there in the first place were her retreating footprints in the snow.

Because that's exactly what Leah had done when realization fell over her. She bolted only a few moments after the rest of us realized what happened. I had to give my props to Jacob, though, because he snapped swiftly out of his astonishment, took on the role of leader, and gave Daniel some bullshit excuse for Leah's behavior before agreeing to set up a meeting at the Uley's in an hour. Then he left. Then Paul, without even a second glance back in my direction. Then Embry, who nudged an apologetic and visibly deflated Seth on the arm before they both slunk away.

"It's a good thing that it isn't really up to you, then," I replied snootily, frowning down at my crumpled and slightly frayed college diploma. I half-heartedly smoothed it out, wondering how an accomplishment that I had worked so hard for had become null and void. "Besides, they know enough already. I might as well get the rest of the information to them before they start spreading false ideas. Not that they would say anything to anyone anyway," I added lowly. "But you know. Better to get it all done in one go that to wait."

A shake of his head was followed by a thump when he flopped backwards onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. No noise emerged from either of us except for the light sound of our breathing and the crinkling as I flipped through documents, but then he said, "Do you remember the conference we went to in England in 2013?"

Of course I did. It stormed the entire time that we were there – so harshly, in fact, that our flight had been delayed for two days - Isaac had gotten food poisoning off of some bad fish he had eaten from the hotel buffet, and I had had to tell more than enough people that, 'No, I am not so and so's wife. I'm actually here to make a presentation for the conference.' "I wish I didn't," I grimaced. "Why do you ask?"

"I remember that we went out to dinner with a few people – I think it was… someone who worked for Parliament, maybe? I don't really remember. Some higher up that we were dealing with at the time and we all had to go play nice with a bunch of different bureaucrats."

"Yeah."

"Do you remember that waiter that kept hitting on you?"

I blinked, giving him a strange look. "I guess I do. Why?"

"Don't know why you wouldn't remember it," he shrugged, though I could see a small, lazy smirk on his face. "You practically tore him apart with your words when he wouldn't stop flirting, coming over to ask at least five times if you needed a refill on your wine and other such things. The poor guy was awfully embarrassed, I was mortified, but everyone else at the table thankfully thought it was funny. Some of our female guests later told me that it was the highlight of their night. That they were, you know, happy that our government was taking leaps and bounds with women who didn't take any shit."

I all but threw my stack of documents onto the ground and crossed my arms over my chest, eyeing where he reclined on the bed. "Okay, I'll bite. Why are you bringing this up? What relevance does that have to… anything?"

"Because I knew who you were back then," he replied simply. "This rugged ball of fire that wouldn't second guess herself for a second. This woman that would tear apart a person so thoroughly that people nicknamed her the Ice Queen. This always single, reclusive, brilliant woman who never needed validation and picked and chose her tiny group of friends with precision." He shrugged. "I guess I don't recognize who you are anymore. You have a bunch of new friends, you're dating some guy that looks as if he could dead-lift us both, and you live in a house that looks remarkably similar to the one in _Little House on the Prairie._ You've changed."

"For the better," I replied after a moment of thought. "I think. I'm still the same person I always was, just… open to new things. Open to changes and new people and new experiences. It nearly killed me to do it, but this place has a way of messing with your head in the best way possible. At first I was hesitant, of course, because that's how I am as a person, but it grew on me. I made friends. I was happy. _Am_ happy. The thought of leaving –" I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding. "It makes my chest hurt."

He blinked, but looked sympathetic. "You realize that you might not have a choice in the matter, right? Not unless you want to put yourself in serious danger."

I looked away, chewing nervously on my thumbnail. "Yeah. I know." Then after a pause, I added, "He's not a bad guy, you know. Paul, I mean. And I _do_ love him, like I told you before. He was good for me. Never backed down when I yelled and was ready to go toe to toe with me whenever I fought with him, but I don't think I'll have a chance anymore. _God_ , I've never seen him so hurt."

"If he cares about you as much as you care about him, he'll understand," said Daniel, sitting up and leaning on his arms before hesitatingly asking, "Are you sure that it's even _love?_ It's a pretty big word to use, especially considering your own personality. Maybe love is a bit of a stretch – just a connection or kindred spirits or something –"

" _Don't_!" I snapped suddenly, rising to my feet from the sudden wave of fury that rushed over my skin. "I love that man in every single way that a human being can love another person. He isn't what you think he is – none of them are. He wasn't the sudden love at first sight, smile that took my breath away or even the fireworks during a romantic kiss. Our relationship is messy and complicated and filled with yelling and kicks to the nuts and," I shook my head, choking out a laugh, "music boxes and shopping for Christmas trees and beachside bonfires."

"Audrey –"

But I wasn't finished with my rant quite yet. "It's not that silly, childish love for teenagers who are only looking for someone to help them blow off steam," I told him, watching as he stared at me in surprise. "Even through everything, he was still _mine._ Above all, he was the soft voice in my head that told me that I was important to someone that I don't deserve, and now… now I can't do anything about it because we have to _leave!_ "

The last echoes of my words brought us directly into an unsteady silence, and I choked back a sob that came from somewhere deep within my throat that I had been holding back for much too long. I pressed my hands against my forehead and felt my back hit the wall, sliding down the wood until I hit the floor, trembling and face contorting as I tried to fight back every emotion that threatened to escape from my dry throat.

I felt Daniel's presence settle quietly next to me, not quite touching and violating my personal space but still close enough so that I definitely knew that he was there. It was as if he was trying his best to give me comfort in a way that he knew I would appreciate, as if he were saying, ' _I'm here if you need me._ ' But they were empty gestures, because he wasn't the one that I wanted to be sitting beside me. "I didn't mean any offense by what I said," his soft voice told me. "I'm sorry."

 _Yeah,_ I couldn't help but think to myself. _So am I._

And it wasn't as if I didn't understand the gravity of the situation, because I did. I understood it more than anyone. I knew what was at stake if we stayed; I knew what was at stake if we left. I knew, I knew, I knew, and I couldn't do anything about it because the world was a fucked up place with complications that simply couldn't be solved by the simple act of hoping for things to be better.

But that was life, I supposed. You spend your whole life fighting to get to a place in your life in which you finally feel comfortable - searching for stability, a home, a family, happiness, wealth, power, or love, and when you finally get it, it gets taken away from you in a way that you never could have prepared for. Something that strikes you so squarely in the chest, opens you up and tears you apart so you have to change the very essence of who you are to adapt, and then it… disappears.

Yeah.

That was life.

And it fucking sucked.

oOo

The atmosphere inside the Uley home was stifling. Whether that because of my own nervousness of what was to come or the many bodies crammed into such a tiny space, I wasn't sure, but I found myself breathing heavily against the heat in order to organize my thoughts.

Conversations had ceased the very moment that we stepped through the front door – our dysfunctional little group of four, all feeling like we didn't belong there. Well, maybe that was a stretch. Luke had no idea what was going on and Isaac appeared to feel right at home as Emily directed him to carry a snoozing Luke to where Claire was sleeping in the other room. Daniel and I were the only ones who truly felt out of place - Daniel because he didn't know anyone and myself because… well, because _they_ didn't know _me._

It was a strange feeling, knowing that I had to basically strip myself bare to these people who were quickly realizing that I had been lying to them all for quite a long time. It almost felt intimate in a way, because I was sharing the entirety of who I was with them. My entire life story an open book, all broken down and contained inside a small box that I carried in my hands and placed in the middle of the dining room table.

The eyes of the pack bounced back between Daniel and myself, and it was as if no one knew quite where to look or what to say. I was an enigma wrapped in questions wrapped in a confusing paradox, but so was Daniel - the first male imprintee to the first female werewolf, though he didn't exactly know it. I could see that he felt uncomfortable under the heavy scrutiny he was receiving, but there wasn't anything that I could say that would assuage his concerns. He would have to bear the weight of the stares without complaint just like I did.

As I stood at the front of the table surrounded by people that I had once called friends, mentally rehearsing what I wanted to say to them, I realized that something was wrong. There was something missing from the picture before me that was so glaringly obvious, I wanted to smack myself for not having noticed it immediately: both Paul and Leah were nowhere to be seen.

I was sure that I had visibly slumped, expression flashing with pain. My eyes met Emily's and I could see her discreetly shake her head, as if she had instinctively known what I was thinking. My frown deepened, though I hadn't known what I had been expecting. I should have considered myself lucky that he hadn't barged in and made a scene, so the fact that he was simply avoiding was… somewhat of a relief, even though it still hurt like hell.

"I'm going to start off by saying that I'm not sorry for lying," I began swiftly, realizing that no one else was going to speak and putting on what Isaac used to call my 'lawyer voice.' I tried to keep my tone cool and even in a way that no one would know how nervous I was. I had a feeling that I wasn't succeeding. "I don't regret keeping anything from all of you because I was protecting the people that I care about from a monster. I came to this place expecting to hide here, to stay under the radar, and to give my boys a life where they could grow up in a safe place, but everything has become much more complicated than I ever thought it could be and I think it's time that you all know the truth."

I took a calming breath and finally said, "For those of you who haven't already heard it through the grapevine, my real name is not Katherine Montgomery." Gesturing to Isaac, I added, "His name isn't Aiden and my real name is not Katherine Montgomery. We've never lived in New York, I've never worked at a museum of any kind, I didn't move here to write a book and I didn't major in history in college." In an effort to do something with my hands, I flipped open the flaps of the box and tossed several pieces of paper across the table for the rest of them to see. "My real name is Audrey Perdue, sister to Isaac, mother to Lucas."

I cleared my throat, watching as they all crowded around the table to get a glimpse of the files. "I have a degree in law from Georgetown University in D.C., and I worked as a lawyer for the Department of Justice before I came here. We lived in a nice apartment in a gated community, the boys went to an elite private school, and we had a pretty great life before it all went to shit. My boss," I nodded toward Daniel, who was leaning against the wall behind me and didn't bother to look up when I mentioned him, "Daniel, had just been given a case file for a crime that had… admittedly gotten a lot of air time on national news."

I pulled out another piece of paper from the box, this one thin and cut out from a newspaper, and pushed it forward. "Suspected mob affiliate Frankie De Palma was convicted of murdering the daughter of a rival mob member. Her name was Eleanor Mariani. De Palma claimed that the Mariani family had stolen over two hundred thousand dollars worth of diamonds from De Palma's personal safe that summer. They admitted to being in possession of the stolen diamonds but a murder had still been committed, which meant that we still needed to have a trial."

"I remember hearing about that on the news!" Kim piped up suddenly, smacking her hand eagerly against the table top in realization. Then she blushed when everyone's heads swung around to face her, and she awkwardly shifted in her seat. "The case was everywhere about a year ago when the murder was first published, but I don't remember hearing anything about a woman named Audrey Perdue."

"I'm not surprised," I replied knowingly, smirking grimly. "My name would have been said in passing, if at all. In cases like this, people are more interested in knowing about the criminal – not the jury or the prosecutors or even the victims. I mean, I can say the names Charles Manson or Jeff Dahmer and people recognize them immediately, but no one can name their victims or the people who put them away. The general public has a fascination when learning about criminal masterminds. The focus on the story was on De Palma from beginning to end – more media attention than was necessary, in my opinion."

Kim swiped a piece of paper from her fiancé's hands, pointing down at it. "But De Palma escaped a few months ago. What does that have to do with you?"

Daniel was the one that answered, stepping forward slightly as the attention turned to him. "It doesn't; not directly, at least. I was the one that gave Audrey the case. She managed to put De Palma away without much effort. Legally since the case isn't exactly closed, I can't exactly give you the details, but the evidence that she gave made it pretty clear that De Palma was guilty. It would have been impossible for the verdict to have been anything else, but –"

"- But he was crazy," I interjected as the two of us shared a knowing look. "Half-mad when he was sent away. He escaped while being transported to the state penitentiary, killing five people in the process, and I – during my research for the case, I found inconsistencies that didn't fit. Because of his escape and the fact that he's avoided being caught for this long, we know that he wasn't working alone; we don't know who his partner – or partners – is, but we know that they're out there somewhere. Then he went on to kill several other people involved with the trial not long after his escape. Jury members. His own attorney."

"And us," Isaac murmured, almost to himself. "In a way."

I sighed, reaching out to lovingly ruffle his hair before passing another article over to Sam. It was the worst of them all; the one that was so surreal that I couldn't look at it for very long without getting chills – the one that described my supposed death. "We weren't stupid. We knew it was only a matter of time before he came after me, too, and he eventually did. I was working overtime – a consultation with the FBI on the case – while Isaac was back at our apartment. A package was delivered that caused a small explosion and it set our apartment ablaze. If Isaac hadn't been in the lobby when it happened, he wouldn't be here."

Isaac turned red, slinking down in his seat.

"But no one knew that I was at work at the time or that Luke was still at school, so we made a plan," I continued quietly. "My friend, Monique, was a Federal Marshall. She worked with cases like this all the time – taking people out of dangerous situations and putting them where they could be safe. She sent us here, to a place where we could hide and didn't have to be afraid, but we could only be safe if we hid who we were – changing our identities and personalities."

"Then why are you telling us all of this now?" asked Jacob, cocking his head to the side in confusion and studying me as if I were a curious puzzle to be solved. "If it's so dangerous for you, why not keep it from us?"

"Because despite my best efforts and a bunch of certain extenuating circumstances, the secret still got out." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Isaac and Seth exchange a shameful glance, "Monique was, for lack of a better word, my handler, and as my handler, she was the only one who knew where we were. She was killed sometime in the last few days. I received a call during my –" my voice nearly cracked, so I cut myself off. "I was told that Monique slipped our location to Daniel before she died. Without him, I would have no idea what was going on back in D.C., and we probably wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

Silence. As I had expected no one seemed to know quite what to say. But as if it were just a simple conversation about the weather, Sam asked, "What's your next course of action, then?"

I raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "I don't know. Usually, if this had happened in any other situation when an identity is revealed and a position is compromised, we would start the process over again. I would go through certain channels within the Marshalls and they would make us leave. They would relocate us with new identities and we would never be able to come back to La Push."

And I believe it was at that moment that everyone realized how intense the situation actually was. They all looked uncomfortable, exchanging nervous glances with one another the very second that I said the word 'leave.'

"But as I'm sure you've all realized, leaving isn't exactly the best option in the world," I finished, pushing a hand through my hair. "If it wasn't so complicated then I wouldn't have hesitated and we would already be on our way out of the state by now. As it is, having things the way that they are…" I met Sam's eyes. "I'm at a loss."

"I feel like I'm missing something," Daniel stated suddenly, placing a hand on my arm to draw my attention away. "You keep acting like leaving isn't an option. Any other time, you wouldn't have hesitated. Why?"

"It isn't my story to tell," I told him simply, gently pushing his hand away. "The point is that I need to figure out what we're going to do. If we can't come up with any solution, we _will_ leave. But I want it to be a last resort. The fact of the matter is that Isaac, Luke, and I aren't safe in La Push anymore and we need to make a decision on what needs to be done."

Sam appeared to be searching for something within my expression, but I could not tell what he was looking for or if he found it. All I knew was that he stood, muttered something to Jacob and Jared that was too low for me to hear, then gestured for me to follow him out the door. "I want to talk to you. Alone."

I nodded and followed, ignoring the stern look that I was receiving from Daniel.

The door had barely shut behind us before he started talking. "You _do_ realize how preposterous this is, don't you?"

"I know that this is difficult for everyone to believe," I agreed, as Sam attempted to stare me down with a piercing look burning a whole in my forehead. "Completely farfetched. I'm not foolish enough to think that you would all take my word for it; why do you think I brought evidence to prove that I was telling the truth?"

Sam shook his head, running a calloused hand through his hair. "I knew that you were hiding something," he told me. "Every time I saw you, there were things that just wouldn't add up. I guess I never imagined that it could be something like this…" He frowned, tired rubbing his eyes. "I feel like it's needless to say that you can't leave without a trace. It would destroy him."

My eyes narrowed. "You think that I don't know that? If it wasn't for Paul I probably would have already left, but I may not have a choice in the matter anymore," I stated lowly, too frustrated to ignore the way that his scowl deepened. "Don't look at me like that. It isn't as if I _want_ to leave La Push and I know that the boys don't want to leave, either. If you have another solution, I would be eager to hear it."

It was as if I could physically see the cogs turning in Sam's brain, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that he was at a loss for ideas as well. "Paul wouldn't leave the reservation for anything – definitely not permanently and not more than a few weeks, at most, so that would be completely out of the question."

"If Paul even wants anything to do with me at this point," I said before I could stop myself. "He's probably furious with me and he has every right to be. I wouldn't blame him if he decided that he was done."

"You would think that you would have learned that the imprint doesn't work like that," Sam replied wryly. "He's hurt and confused and understandingly pissed off. The woman he fell in love with turned out to not even be a real person, so I think he has every right to be feeling the way that he does right now. However… that's not going to change how he feels about you."

The barb stung deeply, and I wasn't quite sure whether his reassurances were more of a relief or a burden. Either way, I wasn't going to let him show that his words affected me at all, so I stared at him blankly and repeated my earlier words, "I don't regret it for one second. Not one tiny little bit. Whether I lose Paul or not, I would go back and do it all over again the same way if it meant that I would protect my family."

"I know," he said, glancing longingly toward the door. "And even though I can't stand it, I don't blame you for the decisions you were forced to make. We all go through great lengths to protect the people that we love, and I've long since learned that there is nothing in this world that can destroy you more than caring about people."

After a brief moment of thought, I murmured in a hushed whisper, "The heart is a dangerous thing that isn't to be trifled with. I don't want to leave, Sam. I would give anything to be able to stay here for the rest of my life. I want to grow old here with the man I love and to be _safe_ with my family, but the real world isn't as kind as we both want it to be."

"We could keep you safe here," Sam told me. "If your home isn't safe anymore, Emily and I could make room for you and the boys here or at Paul's, and I'm sure your friend would be more than welcome at the Clearwater's. We could help you if you let us. It wouldn't be the first time that we've helped people in danger and I'm sure it won't be the last. We'll heighten patrols around your house or wherever you decide to stay. We could make it work."

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to any of you," I immediately replied with a shake of my head. "Why do you think I was so willing to leave? It's because I know that I care enough about all of you to leave if that means that you'll be safe. You need to keep yourself busy protecting your own pack, not me."

His eyes flashed and when he spoke, his voice echoed with the memory and force of the Alpha that he really was. "Whether you like it or not, you _are_ a part of this pack. We weren't made to fight against mass murderers like you, and this is way out of our comfort zone, but that doesn't matter. You are a part of this family now, Audrey, and we're going to protect you as best as we can, even if one of us gets killed in the process."

oOo

High above First Beach, on a rocky cliff overlooking the icy seas, Paul and Leah sat side by side and stared silently out at the water. Neither was in a very talkative mood, but they knew each other well enough that words weren't necessary for them to be able to communicate anyway. With entirely different aches sitting deep within their chests, they both struggled to come to terms with the weight of the secrets that had been revealed that day.

So they sat – quietly, miserably, and alone.

 _"I never thought it would happen,"_ Leah finally thought, her words traveling from her mind and into Paul's. _"I had come to terms with it a long time ago, because everyone thought it was – I was an anomaly. There wasn't anyone like me before so there were no references to ever say whether or not I would…"_ Her head flopped over on the hard ground. " _It's not as great as I thought it would be. It's supposed to feel amazing, so why do I feel like shit?_ "

" _In case you haven't noticed, imprinting isn't all it's cracked up to be,_ " he thought back to her. " _Obviously. Though I guess a congratulations is still in order, anyway, so welcome to the painful imprint club with the rest of us._ "

 _"I don't want to end up like you."_ Silence followed her words, and she quickly added, _"I didn't mean that the way it sounded."_

Paul couldn't find it in himself to be offended. " _It's fine. I don't really want to be me right now, either._ " He lifted himself and stretched his body, nose twitching at the smell of the sea. " _I feel like such a fucking idiot. I don't know what's worse: the fact that I was a complete sucker or the fact that my imprint doesn't trust me. Or maybe the fact that I don't even know who my imprint even is. How fucked up is that?"_

 _"Maybe she was scared of what your reaction would be. With your track record, that isn't exactly a surprise,"_ Leah offered lazily, splaying her body out on the light layer of snow that covered the rock. " _And Seth said that she technically wasn't allowed to tell anyone anything about it, so maybe –_ "

 _"Hold on a second,"_ Paul interrupted, swinging his huge head around to face where she was lounging across the ground. " _Since when are you her best friend again? Not even four hours ago, you were just about ready to rip her head off. What changed?_ "

Leah was quiet for a very long time, but Paul easily got the gist of her answer from her thoughts. There was a single image she seemed to be focused on – the picture of a tall, curly-haired blond man in jeans and an expensive brown leather jacket. _"It's weird,"_ she suddenly said. _"How much it makes you feel balanced. I don't know anything about him but all I want to do is go to him. It's unnerving."_ She shifted, eyes closing. _"I'm still mad. Furious, even. The first time that I ever met your imprint, I thought that I had found a kindred spirit – someone who understood me – and knowing that she lied this whole time drives me nuts. But now I understand. I get it."_

Paul grimaced, turning away. _"Do you?"_

" _Yeah,"_ Leah answered. _"She legitimately thought that she was protecting us – the people she cares about. The people she loves. I only know my imprint's first name, but if I were in her position and lying was the only way that I could protect him and Seth and mom… I would do the same thing."_

" _How poetic,_ " Paul snorted. " _Let me go ahead and play a violin to go along with the soundtrack of our combined miseries._ "

" _Fine, asshole,_ " Leah snapped, rising and shaking out her fur. " _Be like that, then. Wallow in your own self-pity. See if I care."_

 _"I will,"_ Paul replied snootily, turning away from her as Leah began the short journey down from their perch. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her head off through the trees with a vengeance, thoughts slowly beginning to fade into images of the imprint she knew nothing about.

 _"Fine."_

 _"Fine!"_ she shouted so loudly in her thoughts that it made him wince. " _But don't come crying to me when you're completely fucking miserable all night, stuck in your own anger because you can't swallow your pride. Have fun with that._ "

 _"Speak for yourself, Clearwater!"_ he yelled back.

But she was already gone.

oOo

The abandoned, dilapidated building that couldn't pass for much more than a shack had once been an illegal distillery during the Prohibition Era, perfectly hidden in the middle of a heavily forested area somewhere near the border of where Oregon met Washington.

A lone man stood in the middle of the room, staring down at the small stack of blurry, black and white photographs that he had been given. Each photograph had the same subject - a curvy, dark-haired woman doing various everyday activities. Crossing the street while holding the hand of a little boy. Browsing in a bookstore. Holding a cup of hot chocolate while critically studying a Christmas tree and standing next to a fairly tall man that he didn't recognize.

With a gleeful, menacing grin, the man began to laugh. "Found you."

oOo

 _Next Time:_ _furry creatures, a collection of unread books, and the first law of thermodynamics._


End file.
